Doubt Screams, Where Are You?
by BurntBreadAndShinyPearls
Summary: They haven't talked for a year and four months. She made it clear that they were over and he made it clear that he wasn't going to fight for her. With a sick twist, after so much has changed in the time they'd been apart, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark are thrown back together. This time, it's her as his Mentor and him as the District Twelve tribute for the 75th Games. AU.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey guys! Thanks for checking out the story. This idea came to me and it's really grown on me. I've been developing it for a few months, so hopefully updates will be regular!_

_This is an AU. Everlark. _

_Something to note: Katniss and Peeta are about two years older than canon in this fic. So, they are eighteen. _

_Old flame!Everlark and victor/mentor!Katniss._

* * *

><p>My final reaping.<p>

I mean, well it would've been my final Reaping if I hadn't been reaped last year. I never thought I'd live to see my final Reaping. Not when I was eleven and on the the brink of death. And certainly not when Effie Trinket pulled a paper with my name on it this time last year.

Except this is not my final Reaping. I'll be back again next year, the year after, and the year after...the only difference is that my name will no longer be on a slip in the bowl. How long will I return to the Reapings? Will I become Haymitch- turning to liquor and smelling like Ripper's stand at the Hob?

Speak of the Devil.

Haymitch stumbles up on the stage, a wave of liquor and week old clothes hits me, and I have to turn away to keep my face from scrunching up in disgust. The man is every bit as one would guess.

But I'd be lying if I said I didn't understand where he's coming from.

Well, minus the barely bathing part. I absolutely don't understand that part.

"Did I miss anything exciting? Any cryers yet?" Haymitch asks, not quietly, as Effie steps up to the microphone. I roll my eyes and cross my arms, because, while Haymitch pushes away the memories with alcohol and jokes, I do not.

I don't really know how to handle it still.

The Reaping goes through it's traditional rituals, with the video and Effie starting things up with her enthusiasm that's much too bright for the this dark event in our bleak District.

The Reaping earns its name when Effie pulls out a slip of paper, and for a moment I think it can be Prim, but then I remember how the odds are always in the Victor's favour. Especially if the President of Panem likes you and what you have to offer him.

I squeeze my eyes shut, because I don't want to think about the Capitol right now.

And Effie's shrill accent cuts through the thick air, calling the name of a Merchant girl. _Sasha Meyers. _Her family owns the little Glass Shop. I never really knew her, and though I don't wish this upon her, I can't let my emotions get the best of me.

Better not to get attached.

She won't last long.

Effie ushers the girl on to stage, and I hear Haymitch sigh next to me. "Bloodbath."

"Haymitch," I hiss back, though I don't argue or tell him I disagree. Because I know there is some truth to his words. And if not the Bloodbath, then the next day.

He only grunts in response and I avert my eyes to my black lace up boots. Kind of like my hunting boots, but without all the mud and rips.

I don't even realize Effie is announcing the Male Tribute until I hear his name.

_No_. Not him.

My head snaps up so fast that my vision is a little blurry. I brace my hands on either side of my chair, ready to jump up and say- _do _something. But I freeze. Because I can't do that. Not now in front of all these people. Not ever, actually.

One by one, little gasps echo throughout the crowd. As he makes his way to the stage. A slightly worn white button up is like second skin, and his brown pants are held up with an old black belt. They must be his oldest brother's hand-me-downs.

I can see his jaw clench from here, and he looks a little dazed. Like he can't actually believe it. But I watch as he sets his shoulders back and steadily makes his way up the coal-stained limestone steps. His wavy hair falls over his forehead, instead of it being slicked back for this occasion. I guess he thought he'd be celebrating his last Reaping.

I watch his hand shake Sasha's trembling hand, and over her shoulder, his eyes find mine. He looks apologetic. And I want to be confused as to why, but deep down I know why.

So when Effie announces _Sasha Meyers and Peeta Mellark _as District Twelve's Tributes for the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games, I stand up and race past Haymitch into the Justice Building.

So much for not getting attached.

* * *

><p>A thick, hot wind blows across the platform of the station as I get ready to board the train. And with it goes any optimism that I originally had after winning my Games. With a shaky hand I brush my hair away from my face, smile over my shoulder at Prim and let the door slide closed behind me.<p>

At least this time she knows I'll be coming home.

The compartment doors to the dining area slide open when I approach, not giving me much time to really gather my thoughts and emotions. I don't want to be a complete mess, so I guess I have to put on my ever present brave face.

Haymitch is lounging back on a dining chair, a flask dangling from his hand while he grins up at me. Peeta is across from him, with Sasha beside him.

"Look who finally came! Now we can get outta here," he says, his words slurring even before noon. The train jostles a little, before a hum vibrates the floors and I hear the telltale sound of the train beginning its movement.

I ignore Haymitch, because he's obnoxious and I can't quite think right with Peeta so close to me and so close to his death. So, I opt for the chair at the end of the table, where an empty cup sits and I'm eager to fill it with some tea.

"These two aren't saying a word," Haymitch tells me. Then he sloppily points from me to Sasha and Peeta. "This year I didn't get fighters. Not fighters like you, sweetheart."

This seems to get Peeta's attention, because he sits a little straighter and leans forward. "I'm fighting. What's the plan?"

His voice shakes a little, and his blue eyes are rimmed with red.

I want to hug him and tell him that he doesn't want to win. It's not worth it. Especially if he was to win the Games, a strong and handsome boy like him; his fate would lie in the hands of rich Capitolites... I shake my head and tell myself I have no right in telling Peeta what he should want. I haven't held him for over a year, so I've certainly lost that right.

"Stay alive," Haymitch says with a shrug.

Sasha gives an exasperated sigh. "So much for being a mentor. No wonder District Twelve barely has any Victors-"

I push away from the table before she can even finish. "Well, if you don't want any advice, then go into those Games all on your own and _die. _No one's making you listen to us."

I'm making a beeline for the doors that lead to the compartment with the bedrooms, when Peeta calls after me. And I respond to his voice just like I used to.

It's almost bittersweet, the electricity that runs through me, when his fingertips graze my forearm.

I can't tear my eyes away from him.

Sure, I want to punch his stupid handsome face whenever I see him, but I'd never wish the Hunger Games upon him. He doesn't deserve this. No, not Peeta. Never Peeta.

"Katniss," he says again, his voice close to a whisper. And...and he's looking at me now, like I'm a stranger. I'm different and he knows it. His eyes scan me, his lips twitching and trying to form some words, but I'm not the girl he'd fallen for a year and four months ago. No, because he's looking at me like he doesn't exactly know what to do.

And Peeta always knows what to do.

He always _knew _what to do when it came to me.

Alienated by the Games, I'm no longer Katniss Everdeen, who somehow fell for the Baker's son, then had her heart broken by the same son.

No, I'm Katniss Everdeen, Victor of the Seventy-forth Hunger Games. I'm a killer. Cold hearted. Unyielding.

I feel sick, the bile slowly crawling up my throat.

And I turn away from Peeta and his uncertainty. As I do, a memory flashes in my mind. I was in my mother's old blue dress, standing in my room in the Justice Building. Waiting. Waiting for any last visitors- for _him. _Because I believed that he still cared about me enough to say one final goodbye, no matter how things ended between us.

But apparently being sent off to my death wasn't important enough for a goodbye.

* * *

><p>I skipped dinner.<p>

Sitting at that table with Effie, Haymitch, Sasha, and Peeta wasn't on my list of fun things to do. My room is quiet, the faint rattling of the train over the bumps in the track is the only sound I hear.

My hair falls in soft waves, smelling of the sharp, flowery shampoo that I used earlier. My Reaping clothes are long forgotten, a crumpled pile on the floor. I switched them for a pair of black denim pants and a green sweater.

But the green reminds me too much of the forest. Not the good forest outside District Twelve, but the forest arena where I killed innocent kids. It reminds me of Rue, dead on a bed of flowers. The green that rimmed the brown in her irises.

I fling the sweater across the room and change into a grey sweatshirt.

I wait until it's late enough that everyone is sleeping before I venture out of my room. Tiny floor lights illuminate the carpet of the hallway. The dining car is empty and dim. There's tea on a heating plate, so I pour myself a cup.

I eye the bottle of liquor on the table, entertain the idea of adding just a bit of it to my tea...

But I don't have the chance to make a decision, because the car door slides open, startling me, so I retract my hand from the bottle quickly.

I look up.

Peeta's face is lined with sadness, and I know that I wasn't quick enough to pull my hand back.

"My room is beside yours. I heard the doors slide open...and I wanted to make sure you were okay," he explains, though I never asked.

"I'm fine," I say quickly- _sharply_.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, and Peeta only whispers when he's keeping back tears. Or when he's trying to be quiet, but I can tell the difference between the two. I don't ask why he's sorry.

He can be sorry for many things. For letting his mother dictate his life, for not saying goodbye to me, for the fact that I have to mentor him. There's so many things.

So I shrug and stir some sugar into my tea while he hesitantly sits across from me.

"I'd like for you to be my mentor," he says, clearing his throat a little. "Haymitch can deal with Sasha...and I trust you."

I ignore the last part of his sentence.

"So, you want to win? I don't think you have it in you to kill, Peeta." _Are you sure you really want to win? _But I don't say that. More so because the train is probably bugged.

"I'll have to at one point or another," he tells me, though his voice wavers. "I want to win and go home and fix things I should've before this all happened."

I meet his eyes from across the table. "You're talking about me."

"Yes," he says, nodding.

Peeta has always been a little naive. Always seeing the good in things, never the bad. Even if he does win, he won't want to fix things. He'll be too busy fighting off nightmares that are in the form of memories. He'll be too busy waking every night, only to find there is no relief in waking. The Games haunt you before, during, and after.

No one gets a break.

Until they die. Or if they choose to drown their senses in Morphling.

"There's no guide on how to win the Games, Peeta. I don't know what you want me to tell you," I say, looking away from his hopeful and scared eyes.

"I want to you to help me in any way you can. What should I expect?"

"Blood." I think of Rue. "Don't make allies. It'll make it harder."

Looking back up, I see his eyes flicker with pity. "I'm...I'm-"

"I don't want your pity."

"Katniss," he tries, his voice soft.

"You should sleep. We'll arrive in the Capitol tomorrow and you'll have to look your best if you want sponsors." When he doesn't make a move to leave, I drain my tea and push away from the table.

I fight the urge to look back.

* * *

><p>The next morning we arrive in the Capitol early. The sun has barely risen over the horizon, yet the streets of the Capitol are transformed into a party. Brightly coloured men and women are screaming, waving.<p>

Peeta, with his blond hair falling over his forehead in a way that's so endearing, is waving out the window. He glances over at me and the surprise in his eyes is disconcerting.

"Are they always like this?" He asks, flashing a smile out the window.

"Do you expect anything less from the Capitol?" I ask, my voice surprisingly even despite the fact that I want to push Peeta away from the window and tell him to get far away from these people.

I keep my mouth shut.

Haymitch stands beside me. "The boy knows what he's doing."

My stomach lurches uneasily and I head back to my room to gather a few things before we depart the train. I take my time. Measured breaths. I count each breath, and it calms me some.

Effie calls for me shortly after. She tells me we have a schedule to maintain, and that I need to be off the train right away.

The crowd eats Peeta up the moment he steps off the train. They're all so surprised with the strong, good looking boy from the poorest district. They welcome him with open arms, the exact same way they welcomed me.

And this terrifies me.

He's already sucked into the hands of the Capitol, prying and greedy. They all reach to touch him as we're escorted into the building. Sasha is marvelled after too, but Peeta definitely outshines her with his bright smile and confident stride.

God, he's so good at this.

Peeta has the charm and silver tongue to win. He can manipulate and play the crowd. But does he have the hands to kill? Does he have the willpower to take another life? No. I know he doesn't.

I have faith in Peeta. In his morale, his soul.

Effie is whisked away when we step through the doors of the training centre, away from the flashing lights and groping citizens of the Capitol. I follow behind Haymitch into the elevator, finding myself standing opposite of Peeta.

I don't shy away when our eyes meet. Instead, I hold his gaze for the whole elevator ride. I'm not sure if I was trying to tell him something, or if he was trying to tell me something, but he does offer me a shy sort of smile.

The doors open, so I only turn in return and step into the penthouse suit that makes my stomach turn. My body goes stiff while my eyes scan the place. I thought maybe it would've been changed, but it is exactly the same from when I was last here.

Every chair is in its spot. Every rug, cup, picture. All the same.

"What's her problem?" Sasha whispers _loudly._

Haymitch makes a noise of annoyance. "Really, girl? You think this place doesn't bring back memories for her?"

There's a soft touch on my shoulder, a warm hand. I assume it's Haymitch and I turn to tell him that I'm alright, but Peeta greets me when I turn my head. His eyes hold concern, like always.

I gently shrug his hand off my shoulder and clear my throat. We lock eyes for a moment and I feel the tears welling up.

"Katniss," Peeta says softly.

Sasha almost scoffs. "Well, it's all very clear on who's going to get help in the arena. Clearly, it'll be Peeta. Since Katniss is all in love with him- talk about biased."

My head whips around to look at her. She seems a little startled when I narrow my eyes at her. Thankfully, I don't have to speak, because Haymitch steps forward and angles his flask at Sasha.

"You're doing this to yourself, girl."

"Just leave it alone, Sasha," Peeta says, sighing.

The elevator doors slide open again, interrupting our little confrontation. Effie steps out, flanking her is Portia and Cinna. Cinna's eyes, rimmed with gold again, light up when they meet mine and he rushes toward me, pulling me in for a fierce hug.

I cling to him tightly and his hands gently rub my back, because he knows. He knows what the Games did to me. He knows about Peeta. He's one of my only confidants here in the Capitol, and he _knows. _He understands.

I'm tired of no one understanding.

"You look marvellous, Katniss," he says, pulling away. But not before raising an eyebrow. I offer him a rare smile in return.

Cinna squeezes my shoulder, then he turns to Peeta and introduces himself. His next question is what catches my attention and makes my cheeks flush.

"So, Peeta, how do you feel about no clothing?"

* * *

><p>Peeta is standing on the chariot, and I almost laugh at the sight. There's a pair of mining overalls that are undone, only hanging around his waist. His hard, taut muscles are covered in dark coal dust.<p>

He doesn't smile at the crowd, but he does give them a stoic, sexy look that has the Capitol screaming after him. He's like a younger Finnick Odair, which can be all kinds of bad and good.

Cinna nudges my elbow and sends a grin my way. "We agreed on turning up the sex appeal."

"You definitely did," slips past my lips.

Once all the chariots are facing where the President stands on a balcony, he holds the microphone to his mouth and beings his speech. He recounts why the Hunger Games happen every year, the _wonderful _Opening Ceremony outfits he sees before him, and most importantly, how much he looks forward to the Games this year. Especially since it's the Quarter Quell.

"This year that marks the seventy-fifth year, the Quarter Quell, there will be a twist to the Games," Snow says, his voice echoing with menace. "A whole new arena, one never seen before, that will test and push the physical abilities, along with the mental abilities of each tribute. Only the most capable can win this war."

His speech goes on, and I swear his snake eyes are on me more than half of the time. It unsettles me, the way the President seems to be holding some sort of grudge against me.

Rue in a bed of flowers is what comes to mind when I search for an answer to Snow's malicious gaze.

My hands grip the arms of my chair, and Cinna must notice because his hand finds mine and closes over it. His warmth steadies me and provides me with determination to smile sweetly as President Snow looks in my direction once again.

I don't miss the curl of his puffy lips.

The ceremonies are long over. Once we all returned to the suite, I locked myself away in my room and sat in the shower for a long while. I had let the hot water pelt my skin and mingle with tears that slid down my cheeks.

My eyes are raw and red when I leave my room and venture into the dining area for a cup of warm milk.

Haymitch is waiting at the table, holding a cup between his hands as the dim light casts a glow on him. I take the chair across from him and he lifts his head, his eyes looking tired and dull. I suppose that's what happens after all these years of watching your kids die.

He watches me for a moment longer, but he says nothing about my appearance. Which I'm thankful for.

"Cinna did good with Peeta's outfit," he says, rolling his eyes. "Some of the wealthiest women are already trying to send their money in."

I nod a few times, waiting for the rest. The way his fingers drum against his glass give away that he's not done.

"We won't have enough time or resources to help both," Haymitch starts, shrugging. "If we want even a chance at bringing District Twelve another victor, we have to focus on one, sweetheart."

"I know," I tell him.

"Sasha's been complaining since we got here. And as much as I hate to say it, we'll have better use of our time focussing our efforts on the boy. He's got fight in him. And sponsors."

My heart swell but also aches. Sasha may be rude and snide, but she is a kid. She's just scared. She's human and she's from home. The thought of her dying makes my insides turn. But this is the game. This is how it'll be from now on.

"Here's what I say," Haymitch says slowly, pouring some more liquor into his glass. "I say we train them separately. We use our money to help the boy when he needs it. The girl comes second."

"Okay," I agree. Not only because I care for Peeta, but also for the reason that he has a stronger chance of getting farther in the Games than Sasha will. It's terrible and sad, but this is how I have to think as a mentor.

Even long before this, I've had to choose and eliminate.

"I'm not prone to gossip...but I've heard how things went between you and the boy. And, all I'm saying is that you should...ease up, sweetheart. Because once he's in that arena, there may be a chance that he won't come out."

I meet Haymitch's eyes. "Yeah, and I'm making it easier for when he doesn't come out."

Haymitch doesn't say anything to me in response. Either because he agrees, or because he doesn't feel like arguing with me. I'm a little relieved. I don't feel like talking about it more than I have to.

"Just think about it, sweetheart," he says and takes his flask, then stands and stumbles out of the dining area.

And I do.

Hours begin to pass as Peeta floods my mind. Everything about him. Every memory I have of him. The image of his smile lingers and I close my eyes, hoping to find peace. But instead I find the opposite.

I move to the living area, with all the couches and viewing screens. Even against my better judgement, I turn on the screens and I'm met with a picture of myself from my crowning. Beside it flashes a picture of another boy being crowned. Something about him is oddly familiar, and I figure it out once Caesar Flickerman mentions '_District Twelve's Winners'._

It's Haymitch. So young, dark, and something of a looker. His dark hair and grey eyes that look just as haunted as they do now.

"Oh, yes, and the lovely Katniss Everdeen – the girl on fire! – she certainly looked dazzling tonight."

"I bet she captured the hearts of the nation once again," Claudius says with a wink at the camera. "I wouldn't be surprised if they have her suite under lock and key, with all the male suitors vying to catch a glimpse of her!"

My stomach flips uneasily. Listening to the two talk about me in such a way, like I'm a delectable piece of fresh game on Sae's counter.

I freeze when the screens behind them are playing clips of my Games. My final moment with Rue is being broadcasted again, and that's when my hands begin to shake and my vision goes a little blurry.

Before I can do something really stupid, like have a mental breakdown and wake up everyone else, I push up from the couch and take the elevator down to the training room.

If this is allowed, I'm not sure. But I don't care all that much.

There's a bow and some arrows on a rack calling my name, and I'm pulled to them. I take the familiar metal bow in my hands. I can't allow myself to think much, or else it will get worse, but as I'm quickly releasing arrows at the target, tears begin fall.

"Such an odd hour for shooting," a voice calls out, having the bow drop from my hands and clatter on the floor. "Don't you think?"

Finnick Odair, in the flesh, leans against a wall in a pair of cotton pants and a simple dark shirt. His grinning at me in a sort of way that annoys me. And I let him know it with a scowl.

"Is the Capitol's darling really supposed to scowl like that?" He asks, his pink lips lifting up in a smirk.

"You should know, considering _you are _the Capitol's darling."

"Me? No way, I'm more of...the fantasy." He reaches into his pocket and pulls a sugarcube out, tossing it in his mouth.

I cross my arms and try to act as indifferent as I can, hoping he doesn't notice the dried tears on my cheeks. "What are you even doing out at this time?"

"I had some..._matters _to take care of."

It's not lost on me what he's implying. I'm not sure if my cheeks flush with heat, because it's disgusting or because it makes me uncomfortable. Finnick's smile curves up even more, and it's more than a little unsettling.

"Don't you have enough money?"

"Of course," he says, pushing off the wall and striding over to me. "That's why I haven't dealt with something as common as money in years." His lips twitch slightly. "I'm paid in secrets, darling. So, now that I've got you alone, do you have any secrets worth my time?"

His smile is so enchanting and perfectly crafted that it could make any man or woman fall at his feet. I'm almost tempted to, but I know better than that. And really, the idea of falling at Finnick Odair's feet makes me want to throw up.

I brush my hair back and step away from him, making my way to the door. What's with these victors? They're all...odd. Some are drunk, some have that malicious look, and some are...Finnick Odair.

"Lighten up, Girl on Fire," he calls after me.

I pause, then look over my shoulder. The blood in my veins is hot. I could punch his pretty face right here, right now.

"_Lighten up_?" I repeat, my voice shooting an octave higher with anger.

"You're not going to survive very long if you don't."

When I turn back to the door, without another word, I think of how his eyes looked solemn. They weren't mischievous or flirtatious. They were real, a warning.

On the elevator ride back up, I feel worse than I did before. Finnick's words repeat in my mind, one word bouncing of the walls of my mind.

_Survive._

It's all still a game.

How silly and naive have I been to believe that once I won, I'd be clear of the Games? Something that I thought early comes back to me.

The Games will haunt you every minute of every day. Whether you're a victor or a tribute or a coalminer- anyone. Besides the Capitol citizens, of course.

Why am I still fighting a battle where I'm not sure there will be a victor?

The doors slide open on the dim, quiet Penthouse floor. A clear bottle of amber liquor catches my attention, and before I go to my room, I grab it.

_Lighten up, _I tell myself.

And that's what I intend to do.

* * *

><p><em>an: And it all starts!_

_So, I hope you all like this so far and are willingly to stick around for further chapters. Trust me, it gets more interesting._

_I really want to hear what you guys think, so leave a review or PM me, or message me on tumblr!_


	2. Chapter 2

The lights may be blinding, and the idea of standing up for more than two minutes makes me feel more nauseous than I already do, but I go through with my shower. I'd rather experience a few minutes of nausea than smell like the bottom of the liquor bottle I'd drained last night.

When I'm out of the shower, my head pounds even more. Especially when I leave my room and enter the dining area where the clanks of forks are sound so loud that I want to gouge my eyes out.

My stomach flips with queasiness when I eye the platters of food around the table. Even the buttery, flakey rolls don't appeal to me like they usually do. I slump down in my seat across from Haymitch, and he looks up.

His eyebrows raise.

"Rough night, sweetheart?" I ignore him and pour myself a glass of water. "You wouldn't happen to know what happened to that bottle on the table last night?"

"Nope," I say, then take a sip.

I don't miss the way that Peeta's eyes scan me, especially when I decline a plate of food. Effie clucks her tongue and eyes me with disapproval. But I don't care too much. I have bigger problems. Like the pounding in my head. And how exactly I expect to mentor Peeta.

"Well, I suppose since we are all here, I'll do a run down of today's schedule," Effie says, drumming her bright pink nails against the edge of the table. She continues on about how the morning includes the training centre, and in the evening Sasha will meet with Haymitch, and Peeta will meet with me so we can prepare for the interviews.

* * *

><p>I'm so lost in my thoughts about home, that I don't hear Peeta approach me until he's sitting down on the bench next to me.<p>

"Thinking?" He asks gently. "You usually hear me from a mile away."

I nod a little, before clearing my throat. "So...interviews. I've never had to...coach someone before. And I'm not the best at telling you how to charm a crowd."

"You charmed me just fine," Peeta says, then shrugs shyly when I raise a brow at him. "I don't care what Haymitch says. You've got plenty of charm, Katniss. And...you've got soul."

I do blush a bit, despite the fact that I do not want to blush around Peeta.

"Well, that's just you saying that."

"No, no. There's thousands, Katniss." Peeta folds his hands in his lap. "You're a very...very good person. I just hope you know that, okay?"

My eyes leave Peeta and return to looking out at the tall buildings of the Capitol. I'm not too sure what to say to Peeta, because he obviously does not understand the fact that I've killed living kids. I let Rue die. How can that make a good person?

"I was thinking of just being myself for the interviews," he says when it's clear that I don't intend on speaking again. "I don't want to act like someone I'm not."

Peeta's a natural charmer, so I doubt he'll have trouble with this.

"Okay," I agree. "Do you know how the private training test works?"

"Kind of," he says. "Anything I should know?"

"I shot an arrow at them last year," I tell him, and my lips threaten to quirk up in a grin when his eyes widen.

"You didn't?" He shakes his head. "God, _you did_?"

For the first time in a while, a laugh escapes me. It sounds foreign and makes my throat feel funny, but it's still a laugh. I think it surprises Peeta, too. He pauses, then his lips curls up into a smile.

"They weren't paying attention...so I got their attention." I brush back a strand of hair from my face. "What I'm saying is...make sure they remember you, I guess."

Peeta turns his body toward me, that half-smile still on his face. "So, what you really mean is that you want me to shoot an arrow at them?"

And I look down with a grin, because this is a prime example of how well charming comes naturally to Peeta. He'll have no trouble with his interview.

"If that's a route you want to take," I say.

"I've got a few ideas," he says, but he doesn't say any more on the subject.

We sit up on the rooftop in silence. I don't remember what happens after, because my eyes close and sleeps comes.

* * *

><p>Sasha and Peeta go down to the Training Centre every morning. Every morning Peeta never fails to give me a shy wave before heading into the elevator. It always earns me a glare from Sasha, a raised eyebrow from Cinna, and an eye roll from Haymitch.<p>

I never meet Peeta's eyes, because I'm too embarrassed over the fact that he carried me down to my room when I'd fallen asleep on the rooftop a few nights ago.

"How are the sessions going?" Haymitch asks, scooping an enormous amount of eggs into his mouth.

"Good," I say, shrugging.

If I'm being honest, Peeta and I spend our sessions sitting on the rooftop. Sometimes he'll ask me questions on how to find water, or where to sleep. I'll quiz him, too. On poisonous berries, and on questions that Caesar might ask him.

But I avoid his gaze at all costs.

"How much talking do you two do? I know how you teenagers-"

"It's not like _that,_" I snap, scowling deeply at Haymitch. What surprises me is the laugh that escapes Cinna. "It's _not_ funny."

Cinna raises his hands. "Sorry, Katniss. Really. It's just...I mean, you two do spend a lot of time up there."

"Because I'm his mentor!"

"I know, Katniss," Cinna says, trying to placate me. "But I've heard that you two have history."

Haymitch cackles and drops his fork. I shoot a glare that could kill, but the old man still laughs, wiping his eyes.

"Cinna, her and the boy were the talk of Twelve!" Haymitch's lips quirk up. "I could've bet that Katniss would've been knocked up by now. Sporting a big ol' round belly-"

"Shut the hell up, Haymitch," I spit and stab the blueberry on my plate with much more force than needed. My cheeks burn with anger and embarrassment.

"Fine," Haymitch says, and I look up to find the grin gone from his face. "Let's talk about something else then. Like _my _liquor bottles that seem to be disappearing."

Cinna nods slightly, wiping his mouth gently. "Katniss...we're not oblivious."

"I just want you to stop stealing my liquor." Haymitch grumbles with a shrug. Cinna ignores Haymitch and waves him off.

"I know it seems like a good way to...lose yourself, but it's not healthy, Katniss."

Cinna's eyes are heavy with concern, and it makes me feel much more guilty than I should. I shouldn't feel guilty for trying to find a way to cope. How else should I cope? At least I have enough sense not to turn to Morphling.

"There's no other way," I whisper weakly.

"There's _no _way. Period." Haymitch's look is sober, the most I've ever seen it. "You're going to have to adjust, sweetheart."

What is with every other person telling how to deal with things? _Lighten up. Survive. Adjust. _I want an answer that will help.

Before I know what I'm doing, I find myself rushing away from the table and to my room, where I press the button to lock the door. Weird, awful choking noises get stuck in my throat while I gasp for air.

The arrow that sank in Marvel's neck flashes in front of my eyes. Followed by Glimmer's mangled, swollen body. Then the final arrow that embedded itself in Cato's chest, right where his heart was. And I was named victor.

And Rue is still dead.

And Peeta is going to die.

And Prim is still scarred.

And I'm not the same.

I reach for the lamp near my bed and hurl it at the wall. The _smash _doesn't satisfy me. Instead, my chest only heaves more and the tears still spill down my cheeks.

* * *

><p>A soft knock startles me awake. A softer one follows it, and it has me picking myself up off the floor. My muscles protest with every step. My finger hesitantly presses the lock button and the door slides open.<p>

And Peeta sprawls out on the floor with a _umph. _

He scrambles up, looking perfectly disheveled in a white t-shirt and blue sleep pants.

"Uh- hi?"

"Hey- sorry. I...you skipped dinner." Peeta rubs his neck and his blue eyes are so predictable with concern and sadness. His eyes leave mine and fixate on my room. My disastrous room. "Wha-"

"I'm fine."

Peeta, the most forceful and prying he's been, pushes past me and surveys my room. Gently he picks the pillows up off the ground and puts them on my bed.

And he runs a finger over the three empty liquor bottles on the table by the bed.

I'm not ashamed, but I'm ashamed that _Peeta _is the one seeing this.

"It tears me apart," he starts slowly, lifting his gaze from the bottles to me. "To see you like this, knowing I can't help. I don't understand...and I hate it. I _want _to help, to understand."

"I don't want you to understand, Peeta."

And I don't mean it in a cold way. I really don't want him to know what this feels like. I'd never wish this upon anyone. Not someone like Peeta. We may have went through our rough patch, but I still know that he's such a good person. He's so bright, so giving, so funny.

"You can talk to me, Katniss."

"I'm not talking about what I did," I say sharply, crossing my arms. "I'm not talking about how I was supposed to protect Rue. I'm not talking about how I let her die!"

Peeta's arms wrap around me and I fight against him. He tries to calm me and I try to pretend that I don't miss the feeling of being in his arms. With a sigh of frustration, I push away with all I have.

"Leave me alone, Peeta! I'm your _mentor. _I'm not your friend, or your girlfriend, or _anyone to you_." I brush away wild strands that escape my braid and fall in my face. "Stop trying to act like you _know _me. You don't and you never will, Peeta."

His eyes are as broken as the day we ended our relationship a year ago. The day when he didn't stand up to his mother. The day I told him that he needed to stand up for himself or else I'd be gone.

And next thing I knew, I was gone, walking away from him with tears.

And right now I feel that familiar ache in my chest.

"Katniss...you don't mean that. Do you?" He makes the mistake of reaching out for me.

"Don't touch me! Leave me the hell alone, Peeta!"

Haymitch is in my room when my words turn into yelling. He steps in between me and Peeta when it's clear that I'm acting crazy. Peeta doesn't look scared though, he looks so broken that I'd want to take it all back if I could.

"Okay, sweetheart, you need to calm down," Haymitch says.

"Peeta doesn't understand! He doesn't get it'll be easier this way-"

"Katniss, will you please tell me what you mean? How is _this _easier?" Peeta says, stepping around Haymitch. His eyes are pleading, desperate. "_Please._"

I clear my throat and push Haymitch's hands off my shoulder. Turn my back to both of them. "You both need to leave. I'm going to bed."

"I'm not leaving until you talk to me, Katniss," Peeta says, a little bit defiantly.

Peeta standing up for himself? Never thought I'd see the day.

"Boy, you don't want to fight fire with fire," Haymitch warns.

"I've worked in the bakery all my life. I'm not easily burned, Haymitch."

Haymitch makes a noise, sort-of an appraising laugh, before he leaves the room. I don't dare turn to face Peeta, because I'm one word away from hitting him in the face.

"You need to leave, Peeta. I don't want to talk."

* * *

><p>I wedge myself in between Effie and Cinna, leaving Peeta to sit near Haymitch, Sasha and Portia. He doesn't try to get my attention which makes me thankful. Things have been tense since last night and I'm not the one to blame.<p>

I never asked him to care _now._

Effie makes little comments on each score. The scores are predictable. Careers from One and Two get scores of three tens and one nine. The scores for tributes from Four to Eleven are mediocre, nothing special.

Sasha's tribute picture flashes on the screen.

Caesar's voice drags out every word in the sentence before he announces her score.

_Five._

The room is engulfed in silence. Sasha's soft sobs echo as Peeta's picture fades in on the screen.

And when _nine _flashes, I raise my hand to my mouth. He's as good as the Careers. District Twelve's last score over five was mine at _eleven._ But a nine for Peeta? That's...amazing.

Sasha stands from the couch and rushes off while everyone celebrates Peeta's score. Effie is beyond excited, clapping wildly and fawning over Peeta. The left corner of his mouth pulls up into that humble grin that paralyzed me the first time I saw it.

"_Oh- I usually trade...with your father."_

"_He asked me to deal with the trading today. Something to do with me learning how to handle it when he can't." Peeta shrugs and steps aside, allowing me into the backroom of the bakery. "What do you have today?"_

_His cheeks are red, and if I didn't know better I'd say he's nervous._

_Why?_

"_Not a lot. Um, the cold is making it hard."_

"_Or it could've been Twelve's New Year's celebration last week that scared off any wild life." Peeta smiles and laughs when a hint of a smile pulls at my lips._

_Never had I expected Peeta to be like this. Sure, I knew he was well-liked and kind and funny, but something about experiencing firsthand is much more different. I'll admit that I have no idea how I'm even talking to him without closing up._

_I pull out two small, plump birds. Saving the third for myself to make something of a stew tonight. Peeta eyes them and smiles, nodding._

"_Looks delicious already," he says and disappears somewhere out front._

_I wait a minute or two before he comes back with a brown paper bag. I take it from him and peek inside, frowning when I see a few little rolls along with my usual loaf of bread. He also managed to sneak three cookies in there- the one Prim likes._

"_I can't accept this. It's too much-"_

"_Winters are hard, and I'm just commending your hard work, is all."_

_Bread and rain comes to mind._

"_You've done enough already," I tell him, setting my gaze into a glare._

"_The cookies are nice with tea. Very filling," he says and closes the bag back up. "It's okay, Katniss."_

_His look tells me not to argue further. And I sigh, shaking my head. "Prim likes the flowers on the cookies. She hates eating them 'cause they're so nice."_

_The left corner of his mouth pulls up into something close to a shy- humble grin. "I decorate them."_

Instead of congratulating Peeta, I follow after Sasha. Because she's from home. I'm her mentor. She's someone's daughter, best friend, sister. And she doesn't deserve to feel so alone on her last night.

"Go away," she mumbles when I enter her room.

But she can't get me to leave that easily. Because Prim probably would've been in her position last year. And I would've wanted someone to comfort Prim.

"Five is pretty good from our District," I tell her, playing with my hands and awkwardly sitting next to her on the bed.

"Yeah, well, Peeta got a nine." She cries. "And you got an eleven last year!"

"Peeta's also much stronger. He's a wrestler...he had skills to show. And you know, a five is pretty good considering you probably didn't have as many options as Peeta." I carefully ignore explaining how I got my score. It's not important right now either.

Sasha looks up, tears sliding down her cheeks. "I already know I'm not going to win. I'll...I'll be lucky to die peacefully."

I nod. I wish Sasha a peaceful, quick death when it does happen. She doesn't deserve to suffer. Slowly, my hand rests on her shoulder and I offer a sad smile.

I lower my voice, "Sometimes winning isn't all it seems to be."

"I know," she tells me, her eyes knowing. "I'm not scared of not winning. I'm scared...of death."

"You're all kinds of brave for facing your fears tomorrow."

At this, Sasha smiles and wipes her eyes. "I'm sorry for being rude, Katniss."

"Don't worry about it," I say and stand up, mustering up a smile that isn't laced with sadness. It isn't as hard as I thought it would be, considering she's reminding me so much of Prim right in this moment. "Come on, let's go see Portia and get you all done up for your interview."

* * *

><p>Sasha's interview runs smoothly. She goes for the sweet, yet somewhat mysterious vibe. The way she smiles at the crowd makes you believe that she knows your darkest secrets. I'm actually smiling throughout her interview. She plays the crowd pretty well, and her answers are sweet and simple.<p>

"Not bad," I say to Haymitch.

Haymitch only clears his throat and nods at Peeta taking the stage. He's dressed in a dark navy suit. The material is silky, and when the light hits his suit, it looks as if a blue flame is rippling across the fabric.

Cinna's grinning when I turn to him, raising an eyebrow. "I'm just following last year's _fire _theme."

Though my dress was red and radiant last year, Peeta's blue flame is much more subtle, and he wears it perfectly. Cinna has outdone himself again, turning Peeta into a sex symbol. He certainly knows how to get the female sponsors.

"Of course," I say with an eye roll.

"Hey, sweetheart? You might want to listen to this."

My eyes find their way back to the stage, where Peeta sits, looking down at his hands. He's talking, looking up every few words, a grim look on his face. It's not until I listen to what he's saying when I turn furious.

"My mother...didn't approve of many things." He breathes in. "And this girl...the girl I was dating, she told me I need to stand up for myself – and she was so right, Caesar." Caesar is practically leaning on Peeta, waiting for more. "I don't know why, but I never did. Understandably, she was fed up with me and told me she'd be gone if I didn't do anything."

"And this girl, you still care for her, yes?"

Peeta nods. "I wish I could go back and fix everything."

This is completely wrong. He is supposed to go for the shy, but confident charismatic boy that he _naturally_ is. We never talked about playing the unfortunate, lovesick boy. We never talked about him using _our _story to his advantage.

He said he didn't want to play any angles!

That manipulative, sneaky bastard.

"Who is this girl you need to make amends with, Peeta?" Caesar asks, his blue brows furrowing. "Surely if you win, she won't turn you down. No girl would dream of turning down a victor!"

Peeta breathes in, looking out at the crowd for a moment. His eyes catch mine, and I hope he sees the anger in them. He must, because his eyes jump away quickly.

"Well, Caesar...here's the thing-" he pauses, pursing his lips for a moment. "- it's a sticky situation. She...she, um, _is _a victor herself."

I hold my breath while everything goes quiet. It's quiet for what feels like forever, until murmurs break out. Caesar's eyes widen a bit, then he blinks twice before looking over at Peeta.

"There is only one female victor from Twelve, Peeta," he says, his voice low and addictive, dragging in every watcher. "And if I'm not mistaken, she came here with you."

Peeta nods once, his face falling. "She came here with me."

"Your mentor," Caesar clarifies.

"My mentor," Peeta agrees.

"Katniss Everdeen," Caesar whispers.

"Katniss Everdeen," Peeta confirms, solemn. "The one that got away."

Everyone around me turns. Some look over their shoulders. All of their eyes hold sadness. Because this is _heartbreaking _for them. I flip my hair over my shoulder and stand up from my seat, storming off.

Peeta had no right.

Haymitch calls after me.

My blood is boiling and tears threaten to spill. I can feel my breaths becoming more shallow as I try my hardest to hold back the sobs that want to escape.

I'm nearly at the elevators when Cinna's warm voice stops me from punching a wall. He comes up beside me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"Hey-"

"He had no right," I snap quickly, crossing my arms over my chest. "To use me like that?"

"I know," Cinna agrees softly. He does that sighing thing, and I know he's about to be honest with me. "You can't be mad at him for long, Katniss. Whether you like it or not, you have a responsibility as his mentor."

"I know," I echo as we step into the elevator.

* * *

><p>Peeta tries to catch my eye all throughout dinner. I only regard him with blank stares, because he doesn't even deserve my anger. And I've wasted so much energy and emotions on him.<p>

I'm still exhausted from last night.

"Can you pass me the butter?" I say, looking up from my plate and meeting his eyes expectantly. He only stares back at me with something close to disbelief at my cold words. "Butter?" I motion impatiently.

"Chilly," Haymitch mutters into his forkful of food.

I shoot Haymitch a scowl, because I know Peeta didn't come up with that interview plan all alone.

Peeta's shoulders slump and he holds out the dish of butter. I take it and gently butter my roll without another glance at Peeta.

I spoon some peas into my mouth while Effie rattles on about how the morning will go. As much as I don't like awkward silence – and Effie does a good job at making sure there's never silence – I have to stop her.

"Effie," I say, cutting off her speech. She looks at me as if I'm despicable for interrupting her. "Can you please _stop _talking about tomorrow?"

"Well, Katniss, I'm just making sure Peeta and Sasha are prepared. Though I suppose that is your job...even if you don't seem to be doing a superb."

Effie doesn't mean it as insult. More as an observation of sorts, but it still rubs me that wrong way and ignites my anger. And I have a lot of anger building up.

"How about you show them how to survive in the arena, Effie? Would you like to tell them the best way to kill someone? Bare hands or a weapon of choice? Sneak up or just blindly go for it?"

Effie's mouth drops open, a squeak coming from her.

I feel bad, but I can't take back my words now, so I stand calmly. My feet take me away from the table, and before I know it, I'm climbing the stairs to the rooftop.

I'm not surprised that Peeta comes up a minute later, leaning against the railing beside me.

"You had no right," I say, my anger still seeping out.

"I'm sorry, Katniss. I-"

I turn to face him, and I want to look angry with him, but the tears well up in my eyes and it's pathetic. The story between me and Peeta is the one thing the Capitol never had over me. It's the one thing between us that I could hold close to me, because it was before all of this. Before my Games, before Peeta's.

"That was the one thing left between us, Peeta! The last thing untouched! And you had to share it with the entire nation."

Peeta frowns, his eyes looking doe-like for a moment, before a look of realization and pain crosses his face. I can see him try to work on a response, but I don't want to hear it.

My relationship with Peeta didn't exactly end happy, but the time I spent with him is one of my fondest memories, right next to hunting with my father. My time with Peeta is something that I look back on when things are unbearable, because Peeta reminds me of home and happiness and light.

And now I can no longer separate Peeta from the darkness in my life. Not with him sharing the story, and not with him going into the Games.

"You're a piece of work, you know that?"

"Me? I can barely keep up with you!" Peeta looks exasperated. "Katniss, will you please tell me why you don't want to even open up to me?"

"I can't afford to, Peeta."

I shut out the rest of whatever Peeta wants to say. I turn my head and don't look over at him until he stops trying to get my attention. Because I know there's a possibility I could cave under his sad, pleading eyes.

There's a long while where we don't talk. And finally, when I've calmed down a little, I clear my throat and turn to him.

The wind is strong up here, so I'm sure whatever listening devices are around, they won't pick up anything.

I tell Peeta.

"You don't want to win, Peeta."

My anger has faded into exhaustion. Sadness. Numbness.

"I know," he says, hanging his head a bit. "But...I'm not ready to say goodbye yet."

I don't know what it is that makes my walls fall down; maybe the pain in his voice, also the defeat. Or maybe it's the words themselves. Because I don't think I'm ready to say goodbye yet either.

Peeta's the first boy I ever kissed. The first boy I actually might've loved like _that_. And I need to stop being so bitter. Because he's probably scared out of his mind and I'm not making it easier.

"Why didn't you come say goodbye to me?" The question tumbles out of my mouth.

Peeta's head jerks up, and he glances at me carefully. "I tried...I- I waited until your mother and sister went in. Gale, then Madge. And I was climbing the steps when a Peacekeeper stopped me. He told me you were leaving- no more visitors." A shaky breath blows past his lips. "I tried, Katniss! And I hated myself-"

My stomach twists tightly once I imagine Peeta being held back by a Peacekeeper. I can imagine the look on his face; crestfallen, wide eyed, panicked.

"I assumed you just didn't care."

His hand, strong and warm, covers mine. "I've always cared, Katniss. And I'm sorry I never fought for you."

I pull my hand away from his, no matter how comforting it is. He can't do this. He can't reel me back in when we'll be pulled away by tomorrow.

"We should probably go," I tell him.

"Katniss, please. Don't act so...cold."

"It's how I keep from getting burned, Peeta."

I turn on my heel and stalk back inside. The air feels tense when I round the corner and two men are waiting, while Haymitch and Effie watch them carefully from the table. They both approach me.

"Miss Everdeen," one says. "The President would like a word with you."

* * *

><p>Snow is waiting for me when I'm escorted to his room. He's leaning easily in his chair, watching me with a carefully crafted smile that's fake yet believable enough to make me shiver.<p>

"President Snow," I say, carefully sitting down on the chair in front of his wooden desk.

He skips the pleasantries.

"Quite the revelation was made, Miss Everdeen."

The leather of the chair squeaks when I shift uncomfortably while he eyes me, silently trying to pry into my deepest thoughts. And I'm sure his snake eyes are capable. I shut myself away good enough, though. I don't have to worry too much around Snow, but when he implies Peeta's revelation, I feel myself slip for a second.

I'm afraid that second was long enough for President Snow to see right through me.

"The Games are always a good way to dig up the past, don't you think?" I say, keeping my voice even and hoping to through him off.

Judging by the flash of anger on his face, he doesn't like my way of distraction.

"Ah, Miss Everdeen, it does not seem as though all is in the past."

I clench my teeth before I reply, "What makes you think that, Sir?"

A pleased look spreads across his face, like he knew I was going to ask, and he turns a projector on. It replays the exact moment of Peeta being reaped. And all I can notice is the panic on my face. Then pain when I make my way off the stage.

"You see Miss Everdeen, I do not take acts of defiance lightly."

I remain quiet, more so because the air leaves my lungs when he replays Rue's death on the projector. My hands shake and I clench them to stop it.

"Shame, isn't it?" He asks, his cold eyes hold humour. The white rose twirling between his fingers is giving off enough of a smell to make me sick. "A child in the Games. She was never meant to win anyway."

"She was a child," I agree, nodding my head slowly.

"Oh, Miss Everdeen, let's not play dumb now. You're a very bright girl and you must know that your act of defending that girl from Eleven was not how the Games are played."

His snake-like smile sends shivers up my spine and bile rises in my throat. Maybe I would've been luckier to die in the games. I wouldn't be here, with this man that's able to control everything. I wouldn't be in his game that I'll never win.

"She was an ally," I force the words from my dry throat, trying to make it sound as believable as possible. President Snow eyes me with amusement. As if this all some sort of sick joke. Anger swells in me. "Why am I here? I'd be really flattered if you took time out of your busy schedule to talk to me about my Games," I spit out, my hands closing tightly around the arms of the chair. "But in all honesty, I'd rather not."

"All actions have consequences, Miss Everdeen," he says, his voice low and indifferent as he presses a button and Peeta's interview shows up on the projector.

"_She came here with me."_

And a slow, evil smile spreads across President Snow's face once realization dawns on mine.

"Twelve always causes the most trouble, it seems."

* * *

><p><em>an: hope you all enjoyed this!_

_We will hear more of Peeta and Katniss' backstory throughout the next chapters, and as well as Katniss' Games. I hope you guys still like this story and continue to read more as I publish!_

_Review/PM either on here or tumblr!_


	3. Chapter 3

My hands haven't stopped shaking. When I finally dragged myself up to the Penthouse after my meeting with Snow, everyone was sleeping. Part of me wondered if Peeta would be waiting for me, but I had to tell myself that I told him to stay away.

He should stay away, right? Snow is set on making his life Hell because of me. I've done enough damage to the sweet Baker's son.

My eyes turn to the wall made up of glass, overlooking the streets of the Capitol. It's late, in just a few hours the sun will rise and the Games will start. And Peeta will be gone. Fighting for his life in the arena. All because of me.

Maybe this quiet time will be good for me, so I can put things into perspective. What if the roles had been reversed? Peeta was my mentor and I was a tribute. How would he act? He would certainly do his best to look out for me, but not the same way I am. He would...be gentle with me. Kind. Soft.

Not harsh and closed off.

Part of me knows I'm doing him wrong. But the other part of me is too scared to get close. To let him in during these final hours.

I'm staring so intently out the window that I nearly jump out of my own skin when Peeta slides on the ledge across from me.

"Hey," he whispers. He looks at me, then a sad, knowing smile is on his face. "Can't sleep?"

"There aren't really any pleasant thoughts to fall asleep to," I say back.

I can't help but feel so guilty when I look at him. God, I want to throw up. I might throw up.

"You could say that," he agrees. His smile slowly fades into a thin line, the light in his eyes dims quickly. Much like a dying fire. The hope in him is dying.

My Peeta Mellark is losing his hope and I hate watching it.

"What happened earlier? With the President. I've been worried," he says. My heart clenches. Even after everything he's _still _worried about me. And this only reinforces my thoughts from before.

A sick feeling starts churning in my stomach and I have to tear my eyes away from his if I'm going to be able to tell him. Because I need to tell him. He deserves to know.

"Peeta...it's my fault."

"What is?"

"Snow wants to get back at me," I whisper, looking away from him.

Peeta's quiet for what feels like years, before he speaks again.

"Why would he use me to get back at you?"

I swallow thickly. "He wouldn't dare use Prim again- having her name picked two years in a row would be too obvious and cruel. And the next person that I cared for was..._is_ you." I close my eyes tightly. "He wanted to use you to get back at me for showing defiance with Rue."

"Katniss," Peeta says quietly after a moment. "It's not your fault...I don't blame you."

"Well, you _should_," I say loudly. "You should hate me! Hate me so it's easier, Peeta!"

"I'm never going to hate you, Katniss," he whispers, his hand touching my cheek. "I'm going to go into those Games, and I'm gonna love you. No matter what happens. I'm staying true to who I am, and who I am loves you."

And just like that, I break into sobs. I _don't_ run away from him, I _don't_ hide. I _don't_ push his hand away. I _don't_ fight him when he crawls over to my side and arms wrap around me tightly. I _don't_ do anything but lean into him and cry on his shirt.

"Snow chose to do this, Katniss," he whispers near my ear. "I'm not mad at you."

"We shouldn't...be doing this," I mumble into his shoulder once the tears slow and the sobbing subsides. "I'm scared it'll be harder to let you go."

"I understand. But...I want to spend my last few hours with you. If you'll allow it."

My first instinct is to deny it. To tell him no. But I'm still alive, whereas Peeta may die in the next day. He's the one with limited time. He's the one that deserves to get what he wants. And deep down, I know this is what I want too.

"Okay," I whisper, barely audibly, but Peeta nods into my hair. "I'll allow it."

It's quiet, so I focus on the way his hand gently rubs my arm. I focus on the warmth of his body, his breath near my ear.

"I don't know what's going to happen to me tomorrow," he says after a while. I can tell he does his best to sound indifferent, but the waver in his voice gives him away. I angle my head to look up at him, and tears rim his beautiful eyes. "I don't want to die, Katniss."

And I swear it feels like I'd just been punched in the stomach. Because my boy with the bread is falling apart right before my eyes, and I'm not able to stand around and turn a blind eye to it. No, because I _care. _I care so much about the boy in front of me. And I don't want to treat him terribly.

We can have this one moment. I'll allow us this one moment.

So, I move and wrap my arms around his waist and pull him closer.

Sobs wrack his body, while his face is buried in the crook of my neck where he breathes heavily. I try my best to comfort him, because it's been so long since we've been in a position like this and it all feels so new again.

But the feel of him pressed against me is so amazing, something I feel I've missed, so I tighten my arms around him and rub circles on his back.

"I...I-I don't want to die," he whispers against my neck. "But I don't want to live b-by...by _killing_."

"I know," I whisper back softly. It's how I felt last year.

"I'm sorry." His forehead falls to my shoulder. "For everything...and I-I just want to thank you. For our time together before."

I don't know what to say- how to respond to this.

I pull away a bit to catch his eye. "You don't deserve this, Peeta."

"You know," he says, wiping his eyes and clearing his throat. "You were the best four months of my life. I only wish it could've lasted longer- forever."

"None of us expected any of this to happen," I say, so I don't fixate on the idea of having a toasting with Peeta.

"I know."

We find our way to my room, and like there had been no lost time between us, I fall onto the bed with my head against Peeta's chest.

"I want to still be me," Peeta whispers. "I'm more than just a piece in their Games. In this stupid game that Snow is playing. So, I'll play by my own rules. If I die, I want to be me, you know?"

I nod against his chest. And I don't dare say aloud that Peeta's thoughts are more than borderline traitorous. Snow, if he's listening in, must know that he has worsened the situation. He has created yet another tribute that will defy him.

And I hope he's ready for that.

"You had a whole year to fight for me," I say after a moment, counting the beats of Peeta's heart in my head. I should be honest with him, we both deserve it. "And I needed it, Peeta. I needed someone to reach out...to be there- or try to be. Then time went on and I realized that maybe it was better if I closed myself off, because _no one _should have to know what I went through."

His hand is playing with my hair, and he remains quiet, allowing me to continue.

"My thoughts were just so...dark, and then you were reaped. And it was the closest we'd been in awhile and you...reminded me so much of _before. _I didn't want you to know what was going on in my head...I still don't."

"You did this...to protect me?" He asks.

"In a way, I guess."

Peeta eases me off his chest and he sits up, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed, dropping his head into his hands.

"I wanted to be there, Katniss. I don't have any fucking excuse. I'm so pathetic, Katniss. I'm so sorry-" He's sobbing and it's so heartbreaking I have that sinking feeling in my stomach. "When you...b-broke up with me. I wanted to stand up to my mother for you, but I was too scared, Katniss."

And now, it dawns on me. _All actions have consequences._ If Peeta stood up to his mother, what would she have done? She would've hit him until he could no longer remember his name, that's for sure.

A sick feeling settles in my gut and I blink away the hot tears. How stupid was I for not realizing this sooner?

"And after you won the Games...I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to right things."

It takes a moment or two for me to figure out what to say while Peeta cries softly. I settle for something gentle, kind. Talking about the past is only making things worse now.

"What's done is done," I say gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Peeta, you need to get some sleep, okay? It's three in the morning."

Peeta opens his eyes, letting the last of his tears escape. And, with shaking hands, I use my thumb to wipe them away. The moment between us is so intimate and sweet that it causes a surge of warmth to run through me, thawing my cold exterior.

I help Peeta get under the covers and I sit next to him, my back against the headboard. He watches me, his blue eyes heavy with exhaustion and sadness and pain.

"I'll stay with you," I say.

"Always," he finishes.

When my hand finds his, he closes his eyes and I wait until his breathing evens out, before I allow myself to cry. I'm thankful I've gotten good at remaining near silent when crying – thanks to not wanting to wake up Prim. My eyes scan Peeta's sweet face; the freckles that are smattered across his nose and the swell of his pink lips. The curve of his jaw. Everything.

I may not be able to study him like this ever again.

My mind goes back to what Peeta said earlier.

"_...and who I am loves you."_

Peeta loves me. Is he just saying that because he's facing death? Are his emotions making him overdramatic? Or did he love me from long before, when we were together, and he never got over it? Maybe he's over it and still loves the old me.

But the sincerity that was in his eyes makes me want to believe that he loves me. Katniss Everdeen, the hunter. The victor. The girl from the Seam.

"What are we going to do?" I whisper, watching his chest rise and fall.

It's so dangerous to let myself do this, but I lean down anyway and press a soft kiss near the corner of his mouth.

* * *

><p>I wake slowly to warmth, security, and hushed voices.<p>

"Oh, dear. This is so, _so_ heartbreaking."

Effie. Effie's voice is distinguishable anywhere.

"I don't want to wake them," I hear Cinna whisper back.

"I hate these Games." And I'm surprised that comes from Haymitch.

Peeta's heartbeat speeds up a little and his breathing is less shallow, and I come to the conclusion that my head found its way on Peeta's chest and he is now awake. My arm draped across his abdomen, his arm wrapped securely around me.

My hand tightens around his shirt. And I open my eyes.

Haymitch, Effie, and Cinna all wait by the door to Peeta's room. They look surprised when they see I'm awake, and their faces change into awkward expressions. As if I caught them doing something bad.

"Breakfast is ready," Effie says, though her voice is five notches less chipper than usual. "We- we leave in an hour."

And with that, they all leave the room and the door slides closed after them.

"What an audience," Peeta murmurs sleepily.

"Still not quite used to it myself," I tell him.

Peeta's arm tightens around me. "I want to freeze this moment. Maybe live in it forever if I could."

I have to smile at this. I do feel rather peaceful in his arms, the sheets around our waists. The warmth between us makes me grip his shirt tighter, because I don't want this moment to end.

"There are about a dozen other moments you could've picked, yet you pick this one?" I ask.

"I'd always wondered what it would be like to wake up next to you," he says. "Safe to say this exceeds my expectations."

I brace myself for the loss of body heat when I push myself up. Peeta has his other arm tucked under his head and his blond hair falls over his forehead. And the smile on his face- so sleepy and adorable.

I want to cry over the picture perfect boy in front of me.

It takes a while, but Peeta and I finally make our way to the dining area, where everyone else is already seated and eating away. Sasha looks between us when we sit down together.

"Matching sleep shirts?" She asks, spreading some sort of jelly on her bread.

I look down at my white shirt, then over at Peeta, who's wearing a white shirt. My cheeks heat up, even at such a silly comment. His head ducks a little and he reaches for a piece of fruit.

"Peeta will be on the first hovercraft, so he will need to be ready in a half hour. Once his hovercraft is gone, Sasha will then go to board the second." Effie's eyes are downcast. "You'll meet Cinna and Portia in your respective rooms at the arena, and, well, then the Games will begin."

"I'll escort Sasha," Haymitch adds. "Katniss will take Peeta."

My eyes leave Effie and they find Haymitch's across the table. He tips his mug toward me in a solemn way, and it makes me grateful. That he's allowing me to see Peeta in his final moments before he's taken away. So I muster up a thankful look.

"I should probably shower," Peeta says, finishing off the pear. He polishes off a glass of milk, as well. "Excuse me."

He pauses before disappearing in the hall to the rooms, and he looks over his shoulder. Our eyes meet, and it's then that I see the sorrow laced in his blue irises. It's so heavy, so prominent, that I actually feel myself get choked up.

I nod once then drop my eyes to my lap because if I stare at him any longer, I might cry in front of everyone.

* * *

><p>Peeta and I make our way on the rooftop.<p>

His body stiffens at the sight of the Capitol hovercraft. I grab his hand and face him. Face the boy I care so much about, and I look him in the eye. His blue eyes that I may not see ever again.

"Remember what I said about water? You know how to make a snare- remember I showed you last spring?" I wrack my brain for things to remind him of. "But I suggest not starting a fire unless the temperature drops drastically. Stick to safe, edible weeds and berries. If you're unsure, don't eat it."

"No cornucopia," he says, nodding.

And I don't know what else to say. He knows how to find water, where to sleep, what berries are easiest to recognize as safe. I told him all I know about survival.

"Peeta," I breathe and grab his shoulders, pulling him close.

"Katniss, I think I'm ready to fight for you," he whispers close to my ear. "I'm not scared anymore."

My fingers are digging into his back as I grasp all I can of him. "It's okay to be scared."

"I know," he breathes. "Even if I die...just know I'm okay."

His voice wavers a bit.

And we pull away slightly, our faces inches apart. I tell myself that I have to say goodbye properly, because I don't want regrets if he doesn't make it out. So, my hand reaches up and my thumb runs along his lips. He used to do something like that to me whenever we'd kiss before.

It brings a small smile to his pink lips.

And I kiss his cheek. It's that bittersweet feeling again, that rests in my stomach and sends an ache to my heart. Peeta's eyes flutter closed and a pink tint spreads across the fair skin of his cheeks.

I hope he knows that I'd never really gotten over him.

"I'm going to give Snow hell," he whispers near my ear, and his eyes open with determination.

"I'll be with you every step."

And I know our time is up when Peacekeepers begin walking towards us from the hovercraft.

Peeta's tugged from my grasp and he's escorted to the craft. His head turns, looking at me over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Peeta."

His lips lift a little. "Me, too."

And he's climbing up the stairs, disappearing into the hovercraft. I'm left feeling even more unsatisfied, more confused, and more heartbroken.

* * *

><p>Cinna's fixing my hair, giving me some nice curls, before I have to go to the Sponsors Area. I remain silent, and Cinna doesn't try to make small talk. I do catch his worried looks, though.<p>

He swivels the chair so I'm facing him, and he crouches a bit, applying a nude coloured lipstick to my lips.

"The best thing we can do is root for him," Cinna says softly. I nod, because what else can I say? I don't trust my voice either. "Make the sponsors see what you see in him."

"But..." _He's mine. _Which is a lie, and possessive. But I don't want these Capitol people to see him the way I do. Because that's between us. They won't understand.

He needs sponsors, though. And I have to help him.

"Okay," I concede.

Cinna adds a few finishing touches before he smiles and tells me I look radiant as ever. And I have to smile, because Cinna always knows how to make me feel better. How to ease my racing mind.

And when he offers to escort to the Sponsor room, I accept graciously and take his arm.

* * *

><p>With a little bit of persuasion from Cinna, I find myself at a table with four women. They all turn out to be very eager about Peeta. Right off the hop, they'd asked me all about him.<p>

_Is his hair naturally that light? _Yes.

_His eyes are so blue! They're real? _Yes.

And when one asks me about how I feel about him, I feel myself close up, because it's how _I _feel about him. Only _I _should know.

I try my best to deflect the question with some praising.

"Peeta is so well-known back home. _Everyone _loves him." The women around me are silently waiting for more, leaning forward in the chairs. "He worked in the bakery- lifting hundred pound sacks of flour everyday. He's, um, quite _strong_."

After the Victory Tour, with all the speeches I gave, I've become much better at talking. Or selling something for that matter. But, at least I don't have to openly lie about Peeta and his qualities.

One woman closes her eyes and smiles, making my gut twist with something that could be jealousy. Or protectiveness.

"Let me get my money book," another one says. And she starts a chain reaction, making the three other women snap to their thoughts.

"You're giving that much? Well, I think I should give more. You know, so he can thank me one day."

"Yes, but I'm the prettier one-"

"He's certainly too young for you both. More for me..."

I'm sure my smile is gone by now. My hands on my lap start to clench. I'm five seconds away from telling them to shut their mouths and not talk about Peeta like that _ever_. But a silky, deep voice cuts in.

"Ah, Katniss Everdeen, just the girl I was looking for." And I've never been more thankful to see Finnick Odair. I turn to him and he smiles apologetically at the women who gawk at him. "I'm terribly sorry to steal her from you ladies."

They're too busy batting their eyes at Finnick to notice me slip away behind him. He's quick to turn and catch me before I get away from him, too.

"Don't think you can run off from me, too."

"What do you want, Finnick?" I cross my arms once we're out of earshot from the women.

"Such a cold _thank you _for saving you from those women." Finnick smirks at the irritation that is clear on my face. "You were about to get yourself into serious trouble before I stepped in."

"Wow. Thank you, Finnick," I deadpan.

Finnick's smirk only widens. "Anyway...I was coming to see if you needed help with anything. You know, some friendly advice."

"Yeah, I don't need your advice. Considering the last time you _did _give me advice, I wanted to rip your head off."

"Fiery," Finnick teases, his white teeth grazing his bottom lip in what is probably the most seductive thing he can do with minimal effort. "Is that what drew Peeta to you?"

The anger surges through me so quickly, and I'm about to raise my hand to hit him or something, but I refrain and grind my teeth together. I'm sure my teeth will be gone soon if Finnick keeps this up.

"Shut the hell up," I spit.

"Touchy subject?" He leans in closer, lips near my ear. "You don't expect that I'm as gullible as everyone in the Capitol?"

I turn on my heel before I actually do get myself into trouble. How dare he insinuate that what happened between me and Peeta is fake? Finnick Odair is certainly not giving me many reasons _not _to hit him.

My eyes spot Haymitch is slinked far back in a dark corner, his hands wrapped around a flask. His eyebrow raises when he takes in my scowl and offers for me to take a seat.

"Who pissed you off _now_?"

"Who the hell does Finnick Odair think he is?"

At this Haymitch smiles and _laughs_. He has the audacity to laugh. I slump into the chair and cross my arms. He's still laughing when my scowl deepens. I'm about to tell Haymitch to keep quiet, but then the screens around the room turn on and there's a breathtaking view of a beach.

In the middle of some sort of circular beach, is the Cornucopia, glinting in the bright sunlight. With a line of rocks separating the water into twelve slivers. Two tributes in each sliver.

Peeta is paired with a tiny girl from Eight.

He squints against the harsh light, looking down at the water that surrounds him.

And were the odds ever in our favour when I taught him how to tread water.

_Peeta's eyeing the water warily. A shiver runs through his body, and I can't help but laugh._

"_Come on, the ice is all gone from the water! It'll be cold, but you'll be thanking me when it soothes those burns."_

"_Katniss, you're actually crazy- I'll get hypothermia! You're probably, like, immune to this water. I bet you break the ice and swim in the winter-"_

"_Shut up," I say with a laugh. And I don't want to waste our afternoon arguing over this, so before I can talk myself out of it, I pull my jacket off along with my shirt. Next goes my boots and pants. "You're going to make me go in there all alone?"_

_My cheeks are on fire despite the coolness of my tone. As if I'm not half-naked in front of Peeta. Oh God, I'm half-naked in front of him. This is the most he's ever seen of me. Sure, sometimes his hands drift into dangerous territory when we're too busy kissing._

_But this is different. He's actually seeing me._

"_You're going to be the death of me, I swear." Peeta hesitantly shrugs off his wool sweater, then those brown pants of his. And he's left in his black underwear in seconds._

_His eyes quickly look over me. And I don't feel so bold anymore._

"_Um...I-"_

"_Look who's nervous now," Peeta teases, interrupting my embarrassing stammering._

_I scowl. "Come on. I want to teach you how to swim."_

_Peeta offers his hand, and together we make our way to the water. The cold is a shock to my system, and Peeta immediately tries to back out. My hand tightens around his and I give him a wicked grin when I pull on his hand and continue into the water._

"_Holy-" Peeta hisses and the water hits his stomach._

_I stop and turn to him. He's narrowing his eyes at me. "Oh, come on. You're fine."_

_I pull his arm and carefully examine the fresh burns on it. Nasty red, puffy burns. My fingers trail across them, and suddenly the air between is shifting. I see him tense when I met his eyes. _

"_Peeta. She did this, didn't she?"_

"_Katniss..."_

"_These don't look like accidents, Peeta." They're too far up on his arm to be. Slowly, I cup some water in my hand and pour it on the burns. Then I bring his arm up and I press a gentle kiss to the burns. "Why don't you ever stand up for yourself?"_

_He doesn't reply. But he does lean down to press a soft kiss on my cheek._

"_I thought you were going to teach me to swim?"_

The countdown ends, and Peeta looks ready to jump into the water, when he glances to his left at the little girl.

_No. _The first word that comes to mind. _Peeta don't do it, don't be foolish like me._ But I know he's far too kind to abandon the girl that stares helplessly at the water. He says something to her, then offers out his hand before jumping in. He swims over to her and she hesitantly slides into the water where Peeta grabs her and struggles to get them both to shore.

He's already wasted so much time when they finally fall on the sandy beach.

The girl watches him, her eyes scared yet mistrusting. And she scrambles to her feet and runs off into the jungle.

The screen cuts to the Bloodbath.

"He wasted time," I say aloud, shaking my head.

Is it tradition for Twelve's tributes not to listen to their mentors? I certainly didn't when Haymitch told me not to go for the Cornucopia. Now, here Peeta is, wasting valuable time by helping a girl.

The swell in my heart reminds me of Rue.

And suddenly I can't pretend that I wouldn't have done the same thing.

The water that surrounds the silver Cornucopia slowly starts to turn a dark red once the Bloodbath is well on its way. I hope wherever Peeta is, he's safe.

I want to reach out for the flask in Haymitch's hands, but he stops me by pulling it out of my reach and shaking his head. And I understand that maybe this isn't the time to drown my thoughts in amber-coloured liquid.

Haymitch sighs, looking older than he is. With greying sideburns and creases in his forehead and lines under his eyes.

"Let the Games begin," he says.

* * *

><p><em>an: let me know your thoughts!_

_Next chapter things start to pick up, so stay tuned._


	4. Chapter 4

She's gone.

I didn't expect her to win, but I guess I'm not ready to face my first loss as a mentor. Barely three days is all she lasted. It was night, after midnight. She was off hiding in the trees and there were mutts.

Large mutts that looked like monkeys. Their teeth sharp as knives.

And all Sasha had was a backpack with nothing that could save her.

I can't get her screams out of my head. Her cries for it to stop. She didn't go quickly or painlessly. I wish I was there to put her out of her pain like I did with Cato.

I close my eyes and try to think off something else.

But all I can imagine is her family. How sad they must be. Do they hate me for not saving their daughter? Did they have to watch her get torn apart by mutts? Did they watch her bleed out, gulping for her last breath as the blood choked her?

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

I'm sorry Sasha. I'm sorry Rue. I'm _sorry._

"Katniss, you really need to shower." I lift my head and slowly open my eyes, sending a scowl at Cinna. He sighs and puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. "I'm...so sorry."

Oh, me too.

"She's gone," I croak. "I could've helped her more."

So willing I was to help Peeta. I know Haymitch and I agreed he was better use of our time, but how did I just set aside Sasha? Like she was nothing? What if that had happened to Prim?

What kind of monster am I? Deciding who deserves to live _more._ I don't have _or_ deserve that kind of power.

"You can't think like that, Katniss. It's not that easy, I know."

I want to believe Cinna's words, but I just can't right now. So, I shake my head and look away from him.

"Please, go take some time for yourself. Go shower, okay? I'll come get you if anything happens. And eat something while you're at it."

"I can't-"

"_He_ wouldn't want you to see you like this, you know that."

It's funny, really, how easily I can picture the exact expression Peeta would be wearing if he saw me right now. The corners of his mouth would pull down and he'd get that little crease in his forehead. And those impossibly sad eyes.

Those same sad eyes from when we were twelve and he threw me that bread.

"I know," I whisper finally.

"Go on now," Cinna says gently and urges me up, his hand resting under my elbow. His light brown eyes give me a boost of encouragement, reminding me that I have to be my best for Peeta's sake. Because he's still alive, and I can help him.

I offer him a grateful smile – something close to a smile at least. "You'll get me if anything happens?"

"I promise, Katniss."

As I'm walking out, Johanna Mason passes me, and she tips her head in a greeting. The gesture would've been nice enough if she didn't have that unnerving grin on her face. I duck my head and walk a little faster.

When I get up to the Penthouse, the avoxes greet me silently with nods. The whole floor feels different, so quiet and empty. I pass Peeta's room and my steps falter. Do I go in? I probably shouldn't, I know. It'll make me more upset, and right now, I need to get myself together.

I don't even look at Sasha's door.

I swallow and move on to my room, walking through the doors and going straight for the bathroom. My clothes, the same ones I wore the day the Games started, fall to the white tile floor of the bathroom. I press a few buttons, knowing which settings I like. Though, I do crank up the heat a bit.

The stream from the head pelts me softly, hot enough to make my skin tingle. It even burns slightly. But it's nice – refreshing – to feel physical pain. I prefer it much to the emotional pain. Emotional pain exhausts me, makes me feel like I'm barely living. At least physical pain lets me know I'm alive.

Sometimes I wonder if living is all that good.

I scrub my body harshly with soap. My skin begins to turn a raw pink with each scrub, and I want to stop. But it feels nice to take my mind of off everything to focus on the tingling sensation on my skin.

I move on from scrubbing my skin and onto my hair, lathering it with sugary, sweet smelling shampoo that reminds me of Peeta and the bakery. It almost eases me, until I remember that Peeta is in the arena right now. And he could be dead. Cinna might wait to tell me.

Maybe he's scared that losing two tributes in twelve hours would be bad for my health. Sanity.

The shower feels suffocating.

_Deep breaths._ I need to take deep breaths. Calm down.

As calmly as I can, I turn off the shower.

The room is cold, so I dress quickly in a pair of dark denim pants and a soft pale blue blouse that Cinna made. I look in the mirror, taking in my sickly pale face and chapped lips. Effie will have my head once she sees how _unpresentable _I look.

I laugh to myself. I truly am _beauty base zero _now, aren't I?

* * *

><p>Once I join Cinna at a table up in the Sponsor's Room, he frowns. Even before I manage to say a word.<p>

"Did you eat?"

"I'm not hungry," I defend quickly, before he can get another word in.

Cinna turns his body to me, his eyes so observant and calculating. And I lower my gaze, because Cinna can read me so well. He doesn't say much though, only uses his finger to tilt my chin up. His thumb, much like a father's would, rubs my cheek.

"Oh, Girl on Fire," he says lightly, his lips tugging into a slight frown. "Don't ever lose that spark of yours."

I try to smile, and I know it's weak, but Cinna accepts it anyways. It's then when the screen behind him changes, and I see Peeta. He's at the edge of a little stream in the jungle, splashing some of the water onto his face.

He looks well enough. I think Haymitch sent him packages of dried fruit and meat late last night. I know it won't be enough, but it's good for now. He has water and food and looks alright. No noticeable wounds.

"He's okay," I breathe out, putting all of my focus on him. Like a moth to light, I focus on Peeta. On the way he sits against the trunk, using the short knife in his hand to sharpen a point on a wooden stick.

An extra weapon. Smart.

The camera switches to view the boy from Four. His sandy hair is pushed off his forehead, bits of blood dried on the strands. My eyes scan the scene, and I notice a very familiar stream. And suddenly I feel very sick.

Because the boy from Four stumbles into a small clearing, and there's Peeta. Frozen. _No, no, no, no._

"Oh my God."

"Katniss," Cinna tries, but I'm already breathing heavily, biting my cheek as hard as I can.

There's a moment of silence. Neither of the boys move. Peeta's eyes search the area quickly, his cheeks flushing red. My heart is beating so quickly, so loudly, that it drowns out the whispers around me. Though a few make it into my head.

"Ah, the tribute from District Four is much, _much _more skilled."

"The next Finnick Odair, yes?"

"Twelve doesn't stand a chance, I presume."

And then the boy lunges for Peeta. He's a strong and quick boy, able to take Peeta by surprise. I don't doubt that he's had training before this.

I see Finnick stand from his table, going closer to the screen. His arms are crossed and he cocks his head, as if this is the most natural thing. I want to yell at him and tell him that if his tribute kills Peeta-

Okay, now I just sound crazy.

All I can do is hope that Peeta will survive this.

Peeta rolls on the ground with the boy. He gains advantage and stops on top of the boy. And for a moment, he falters, looking down at the knife in his hand. I know what he's going to do before he does it.

Peeta tosses the knife away and begins to wrestle with the boy.

Of course Peeta won't fight him with a weapon. That's not who he is.

There are a few gasps when Peeta locks Four in a headlock. It's almost _painful _with how easy the fight is over. The boy's face is purple, then he goes limp in Peeta's hold and the cannon echoes.

I watch Peeta slump to the ground, scrambling away from the boy. He looks down at his hands, as if he can't believe he just killed the boy. I also watch a piece of the boy I once knew slip away and shatter.

I stand and move closer to the screen.

Peeta's body begins to shake and he retches. I feel my own eyes moisten, because I feel so helpless. I kneel near the screen and a tear escapes. What have they done him?

"Peeta..." I whisper, barely audible to anyone but myself. "I'm sorry."

I glance over my shoulder, Finnick shakes his head, but he doesn't look too hurt. It's then I realize that he just lost another kid to the Games. He's used to it, maybe. Part of me wants to tell him I'm sorry, but I know it's a lie. Because Peeta is still hanging on.

But then again, I'm not sure if that's so good.

"I've always loved an underdog," a man with ridiculous green hair says with a large smile. "He'll be like the Girl on Fire! Now, did you hear that they're in love..."

I close my eyes and grit my teeth together.

When I open them again, I find Johanna Mason, from District Seven, is watching me carefully. And I've been able to avoid her all this time, because, frankly, she scares me. She has that look in her eyes that gives me the feeling she will not hesitate to rip my head off if I get too close.

And she stands from her table, her eyes locked on mine as she walks right towards me.

_Oh, God. _Guess I could only avoid her for so long.

"I'd suggest maybe sending him something," she says, coming to kneel next to me. "Like food, or something. You know, to bring his spirits up, Brainless. Crying in front of a screen won't get you or him too far."

I quickly wipe at my tears, because I don't think they are meant to be shed in Johanna's presence. My only response is to nod.

"It'll be okay," she says, lowering her voice. "You'll see."

And before I can ask her how the hell would she know, she's up and strutting across the room.

After a few minutes, I stand and take Johanna Mason's advice to send Peeta something. I try to think of something that he would enjoy. Bread, maybe. But only if it was from home, or if he baked it. And he already has water.

Stew. A nice thick stew, like the one we'd had when he came over to my house in the Seam for the very first time. I don't think they have rabbit or squirrel stew in the Capitol, but I bet there's something similar.

Haymitch has been hard to track down, albeit I haven't really been seeking him out either. We do separate things. He's usually off drinking somewhere.

I find him in a booth laughing at something with Chaff from District Eleven, who winks at me when I approach. But I ignore that. My focus is set on Haymitch, and I'm immediately disgusted.

"You've got to be kidding me," I say, anger seeping in at the end of my sentence.

"Problem, Sweetheart?" He tips back his drink and slams the cup back down on the table, a laugh bubbling out of him when he looks at Chaff.

"Did you not just see what happened? _Peeta _just _killed _someone. He just killed someone and he's scared and alone...and you're here _laughing_ it up. And Sasha! What about her? Did you even notice that she's dead?" My cheeks heat up with an anger so fuelled that nothing can tame it. "I can't believe you."

Haymitch looks up at me, his face void of any emotion. "It was going to happen eventually."

"I don't care! Now, Peeta needs us! He needs us to support and help him-"

"I'm doing more than you know, Sweetheart," Haymitch bites back.

"Oh, right. I forgot how much work it takes to drain a liquor bottle."

He doesn't deserve any more of my time, so I take off. My shoes are slapping against the floor as I run out of the room and into the hall. I'm running as fast as I can for the elevators, when I nearly trip over a slumped body.

I stop before Finnick Odair, his head lifting from his hands.

"I'm sorry," I blurt out.

He takes me in for a moment, then shrugs his shoulders. I nod slightly, looking down at him. The cocky smile gone from his face, and in its place is a look that's so genuine with emotion that I'm taken aback. "Sorry about Sasha. And Peeta."

I look away.

"You win some, you lose some," Finnick says.

I nod and clear my throat. "Do...do you know how I can send a parachute?"

I don't want Finnick's help, but it beats Johanna Mason's. And clearly Haymitch has better things to do. Finnick, in the blink of an eye, stands up with his serious expression replaced with a bright smile.

"Follow me," he says. "I always knew you'd come around, Katniss."

"I'm not coming around," I say sharply, crossing my arms as I follow beside him. "I just need help and you're the first person I asked."

"Whatever you say, Katniss. You can't resist me for long."

And I roll my eyes, because Finnick Odair is a natural Katniss Everdeen repellent. I'm doing this for Peeta.

Oh God, Peeta.

I hope he's alright.

I know he is _not _alright.

* * *

><p>I'm watching carefully as Peeta opens the parachute, pulling out the bowl of stew I sent him. Along with it went a short note.<p>

_I'm with you. -K_

Usually notes aren't allowed, but Finnick knew how to sneak them in and he helped me. I won't admit it to him, but he _really_ helped me. Without him I would've been stuck asking Effie for help to send a parachute. And as nice as Effie tries to be, I just needed someone who might understand whatever I'm going through.

Finnick seemed like the best option.

The smile I haven't seen in so long stretches across Peeta's worn, tired face and he looks up at the sky for a moment, nodding. I smile, too. And so do the sponsors around me.

"Such a brave boy," one coos nearby.

Peeta hunches against a rock on the beach as the sky gets darker. He drops his head against the dark boulder, sighing a little. I know he must be exhausted and wanting to sleep, but he isn't safe anywhere.

In just days I've seen an arena that's unlike any others. A fog that paralyzed a girl from Three and claimed her life. Killer mutts. I even heard Johanna talking to another mentor about rain that was _blood._

Peeta takes his time eating his soup. Between every spoonful, he looks around at his surroundings. Scanning for any dangers and threats. But it's dark, so dark that he probably wouldn't be able to see too far anyway.

The anthem blares throughout the arena, and three faces appear in the sky. The girl from Five. The boy from Four. And Sasha.

I watch the spoon drop from his hand.

He didn't know about Sasha.

His mouth falls open and a look of grief overcomes him. He shakes his head a bit, and then, slowly, he presses three fingers to his lips and raises them up to the sky.

Peeta abandons the little that's left of his stew and settles against the rock, resting his head back on it. He looks somewhat safe for now, so I take my eyes off the screen and go through the count of who's left.

Nine were killed in the bloodbath. Now there's three more. That leaves twelve gone and twelve left.

The boy from One. Both from Two. The boy from Three. District Four has it's girl tribute left. Seven, Nine and Ten have the boys. Eight has both. And there's a girl from Eleven left. And Peeta.

I take a deep breath. Eleven more left and Peeta _could_ come home. Do I want him to? I don't want him to die...will I be able to handle it if he does? But this isn't about me. It's about Peeta. And if he wants to make it out of the arena alive, I will do my best to try and help. Because it's Peeta's wish.

Peeta's head lolls to the side a bit after the faces in the sky are long gone, then he jostles awake.

He blinks rapidly and shakes his head a bit.

The whole night goes on the same way. At some point I doze off and when I wake again, my face is pressed against the surface of a table. My first instinct is to look at the screen and all I see are shots of the Careers stalking through the jungle.

My stomach growls and I'm about to leave the room, when a different camera switches to Peeta.

He looks horrendous. His blank, weary eyes are underlined with dark purple lines. He stands from his spot against the boulder, stretching. The sun shines against his dirty hair while he makes his way to the water.

And the strangest thing happens. Peeta goes completely rigid.

I sit up straighter, thinking some invisible weapon hurt him. I search him for blood, wounds, anything.

But then I hear it.

I can hear my voice, rough and scared, calling out for him.

And suddenly the psychological aspect of the arena makes sense.

"Katniss! Katniss, I'm coming!" Peeta's shouting loudly, breaking through the trees of the jungle and weaving through the vines and bushes like a madman. He breaks into a clearing where black birds are flying in swarms. _Jabberjays. _They're swarming, and my voice is so prominent, along with his mother's screeching voice. I think I hear Delly Cartwright's voice, too.

After ten seconds, Peeta is hunched on the ground, pressing his palms against his ears.

I rise and move closer to the screen. His body is shaking as he cries out. He calls for me and Delly, his voice rough with pain and fear. My hand reaches up to cover my mouth so I don't cry out. The blood in my ears pounds loudly and my gut twists so bad that I almost throw up.

"Peeta," I whisper. "It's not real."

And I can only watch as it goes on for an hour.

When it's over, Peeta's a shaking, crumpled mess on the jungle floor. No one is there to comfort him and he stays curled up for a long time. Maybe he's waiting for me to appear and tell him I'm okay.

Oh, I wish I could.

The cameras switch off him when they realize he won't be doing much.

I leave the Sponsor's room quickly, avoiding every Capitolite that tries to talk to me. And I feel so sick that I run off once I'm out of sight. I find my way back to the Penthouse and run into Peeta's room. Everything is still in place. The last thing he wore – the white sleep shirt and grey cotton pants – are folded neatly on the edge of his bed.

My hands reach for the shirt as I sink onto the bed, pulling it close to my chest. There's a lingering scent of him trapped in the fabric of the shirt and I close my eyes, trying to imagine him here with me.

If I try hard enough, I can almost hear his voice next to me.

But when I open my eyes, finding myself alone, a feeling that can only be described as emptiness takes over. I grip the shirt tighter, my knuckles turning white.

The comforter still smells like him. Something that isn't quite home, but it was what Peeta smelled like the night before the Games. So, I curl up on top of the bed, holding his shirt close.

I wonder about his family. His father must miss him. His brothers, too. I wonder if Prim stops by, looking at the cakes and cookies that haven't been frosted by Peeta.

I close my eyes easily, the smell of Peeta is oddly comforting.

Like I am floating on clouds, I feel myself space out in a state that is between sleep and consciousness. My thoughts seem far off yet loud, rebounding off the dark walls of my mind and floating around aimlessly. I'm not sure if I'm even really thinking about anything, but words are bouncing around my head as I vaguely feel my arm tuck beneath my head.

A haziness creeps up on me, like snakes slithering around the darkness in my head and hissing with the promise of something bad. And I'm too far in unconsciousness that Sasha's screams don't make me wake.

* * *

><p>I'm jolting awake. A featherlight touch on my shoulder.<p>

Except I don't meet Peeta's eyes. It's not his touch.

It's Haymitch's.

"What?" I snap, jerking away from his hand and brushing my hair off my face. "Is Peeta okay-"

"The boy's okay," Haymitch says, slowly drawing his hand back. He sighs- a heavy sigh that reveals how tired he is. I feel a little bad, just watching him.

"What do you want?" I ask, standing from the bed with my hand still clutching Peeta's shirt tightly.

"Just wanted to make sure you were still breathing."

I clear my throat and refrain from scowling. "Well, I am."

Haymitch smirks. "I can see, Sweetheart."

"Don't," I say firmly, crossing my arms. "Don't _sweetheart _me and try to smooth things over. I can't believe you!"

"Can't believe me? If you hadn't stopped stealing my liquor, you would've been hammered as hell after what happened to the boy-"

"We're his mentors," I argue weakly. Haymitch's point is valid and it's who he is, as well. He's a drunk. He can't help it.

"I know," Haymitch agrees and fixes me with a look that's considered gentle coming from him. "Look, Sweetheart, I got you out of the arena. And I'm going to try to do the same with him. I know what I'm doing."

"You should probably sober up," I tell him, lifting my shoulders into a shrug. "It's not good for your liver."

Haymitch barks out a laugh. "Only if you give up the boy's shirt," he says, raising an eyebrow. I look down at the shirt that's crumpled against my body, frowning. It's all I have of Peeta. And Haymitch must know, because he laughs again. "Didn't think so, Sweetheart."

He's turning, heading for the door, when I surprise myself by speaking again.

"I don't want to lose him, Haymitch."

He pauses, taking a deep breath. "I know."

I'm not sure what answer I was expecting, but it seems to put me at slight ease. And when he continues for the door, I don't stop him again.

The blouse that Cinna made falls to the floor, and in its place, I slip on Peeta's shirt. It's a little big on me, but I tuck the front in and make it work. Cinna will just have to accept my outfit choice, and I think he will. He understands.

My mind wanders to the final moments of my dream before Haymitch woke me. Peeta was beside me; alive and well and whole. He was glowing, smiling as bright as sunshine. I felt so warm, too. Warm and safe.

And reality is rather cold and insecure.

Oh, Peeta.

As comforting as Peeta's room is, I start to feel a bit suffocated. I slip out into the hall, and when I enter the dining area, Haymitch is slumped in a chair with a bottle in front of him.

I take the chair across from him and slowly reach for the bottle. I need something to shake the dream that I wish was real. Haymitch lifts his eyes, but he doesn't stop me. Instead, he slides an empty glass over to me.

"You really shouldn't do that...but who am I to judge, right?"

I tip the bottle, pouring some of the clear liquid into the glass. "I just need to forget for a little while."

"That's what I used to tell myself, Sweetheart." He slaps his thighs and stands, straightening out his rumpled shirt. "I'll let you know if anything happens with Peeta. One of us should be sober, at least."

Haymitch leaves through the elevator, leaving me alone at the table with the bottle. I stare at it for a long while. I probably shouldn't. I don't want to turn out a drunk like Haymitch.

_Katniss, don't do this to yourself, _Peeta's voice says in my head.

But then there's Sasha. Being torn to bits.

Just one drink. One drink.

And I lift the glass to my lips and gulp down.

* * *

><p>Again, I wake to Haymitch.<p>

"Peeta's on the screen. I figured you might want to see."

I must move too fast, because a blindingly painful headache throbs against my skull. My vision goes out of focus briefly before I close my eyes and groan. _Great. _A headache.

"Had a little too much fun with that liquor bottle, huh?"

I open my eyes and attempt a scowl without cringing. "Let's go."

Haymitch and I take the elevator down to the Sponsor's room. We step through the doors, and Peeta's still on the screen. It feels like it's been months since I've last seen him, and a rush of momentary happiness surges through me.

I venture closer to the screen while Haymitch hangs back. Peeta has that look of adoration on his face. The same way he looked at me after we had shared our first simple kiss. It makes my stomach do something weird.

He looks somewhat revived. Like the healthy, happy Peeta I can remember. Just the smile is enough to brighten his whole appearance. And I'm thankful for it. It's something good to focus on for once.

"I'm not here to hurt you," Peeta says.

Then it shows the little girl from Eight, sidled up close to a tree. Her body is stiff with hesitance as Peeta holds his hands out at his sides.

"I'm not here to hurt anyone."

The girl purses her lips. "You could be lying."

"I'm not," he says, laughing a little. "Then again, you wouldn't know that. So, maybe you could trust me? It'd be nice to have a friend in here."

"You want me as a friend?" The girl asks.

"Why wouldn't I?" He says. "You know, you remind me of someone back home."

"Who?"

"You remember Katniss Everdeen?" He asks, and I hold my breath. "She has a little sister, Prim- the girl she volunteered for. You remind me a lot of her."

"My name is Maya," she says, ducking her head.

Peeta smiles at her again. That soft, warm smile that he would flash at the young children who fawned over his cookies and cakes. I miss that smile of his.

"Pretty name, Maya. I'm Peeta."

Maya giggles a little, then stops as if she was caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. "I know who you are. You got a nine."

"I have a good mentor, I guess." Peeta shifts his backpack on his shoulders and shrugs. "Or maybe it was luck."

"Luck that you got picked, too?" She asked.

I like the girl already. And that's no good for me. Or Peeta.

"Oh, no. That was a sick coincidence," Peeta says, though his tone betrays him. Especially when he looks up at the sky, like he's looking at Snow.

Maya accepts his answer and moves away from the tree, still keeping her eyes on Peeta.

"Is that stuff true, about you and Katniss?" She asks.

Peeta laughs a little and looks down, nodding shyly. He pulls at something under the collar of his suit, pulling out a string around his neck and a Mockingjay pin hanging on it. "My stylist made this for me. Katniss wore a pin like this in her Games...and he wanted a part of her to be near me. It helps, you know. Do you have a token?"

I'm not listening for her answer, because I'm too busy staring at the Mockingjay pendant that Peeta rubs with his thumb.

I don't realize I have company, until a throat is cleared beside me. I don't have to look to see who it is, because Finnick is already talking.

"Ah, a Mockingjay. Beautiful creature, really." I glance over at him, tearing my eyes away from Peeta. He's wearing a half-smirk. "Something the Capitol never intended to create."

* * *

><p><em>an: let me know what you think! next chapter things get a little more interesting._

_also, 105 followers? you guys are amazing. i love you all._


	5. Chapter 5

_(Peeta POV)_

She reminds me of Prim.

And Prim reminds me of Katniss. The reminder that Katniss is in the Capitol, fighting and hoping for me to come back is enough to make me open my eyes against the bright pink sky.

"You slept a long time."

My head twists to the side, where Maya is perched on a log watching me.

"I don't really sleep. Just keep my eyes closed in hopes of falling asleep," I say, pulling myself into a sitting position. I squint up at the sky, before looking back at Maya. "What do you say? Late morning- maybe eleven o'clock?"

She looks up and shrugs. "Yeah, around there. Do you hear that clicking?"

I nod and look through the trees out at the Cornucopia. The sound – buzzing and clicking – sounds as if it's coming from across the water. On the other side of the arena. Whatever it is, I'm safe from it.

"Insects, maybe." My legs are a little sore when I stand, and it feel so good when I shake them out and relieve the tension. "So-"

A cannon startles us both.

"That makes eleven of us left," I say, crossing my arms and shaking my head a bit. "Soon it'll be five, then four, then three..."

Maya glances up at me. "You want it to be you. The last one left."

She's right, I do. I want to win, to be crowned victor. I owe it to my good friend President Snow. He thinks he can break Katniss through me, but he never will. No, because I will be the last one left and he won't be able to put her through pain anymore.

But I also can't imagine killing anyone else. Especially not Maya. And I know it's silly to have allies right now, but she's just a kid. Maybe younger than Prim.

"Who doesn't?" And Maya straightens her shoulders, looking more stiff and defensive. "You really don't trust me still, do you?"

"Why would I trust you? I barely know you, for one. You're strong and older and could probably take me down in two seconds-"

"Now that's a stereotype," I tell her, flashing a playful smile at her. "How about...we go look for some water and you can ask me anything you like?"

Maya doesn't say anything, only she nods and eyes me as I grab my dagger from the ground and slide the sheath over my shoulder on my back. I hold my hands up in surrender.

"I won't hurt you. Really."

She shrugs and follows behind me as I start through the the trees.

"What were you like back in your district?" She asks after a moment of silence.

Her question stops me and takes me back to Twelve. Back to an evening in the bakery.

"_Unapproachable."_

_I scoff and fix Katniss with a look that's full of disbelief. "That's your one word to describe me? Really?"_

"_It's what you were," Katniss says, leaning her arms against the prep table. "I spent years trying to thank you, Peeta. But it never seemed like I could. You just seemed unreachable with your bright smile and..." _

_She trails off when she notices my hands have stilled over the dough. And I laugh. Because how many years have I spent trying to work up the courage to talk to Katniss, only for me to chicken out? All the while she had been doing the same thing._

"_What?"_

"_That's exactly how it was for me, too."_

_Katniss' lips threaten to pull into a smile, but she bites her lip and looks down. "It was harder for me, Peeta. You come from bright smiles and the title of friendly Baker's Son. Everyone loves you...and I'm just a Coalminer's daughter."_

_I dust my hands off and move around the counter until I'm beside Katniss. I use my finger to tilt her chin up so her eyes can meet mine._

"_You're not _just _a Coalminer's daughter. You're Katniss Everdeen, the devoted sister. Fierce hunter. And you're also stubborn, but so kind. You carry yourself in a beautiful sort-of way, and while you think that this District raves about me, you clearly haven't heard all the praise they've given you."_

_I slide my hand up to her cheek and run my thumb over her lips._

"_You're amazing, Katniss."_

_And I know I'm not seeing things when her eyes glaze over and tears threaten to spill._

"Peeta!"

My head snaps up, and I realize I'm not in Twelve. I'm in the arena. And Maya is nudging my arm.

"Sorry- I...got lost in thought." And I'm thinking back to that time, my heart aching for Katniss. And the words slip out unintentionally. "I miss...I miss Katniss."

"She's really pretty," Maya says after a moment of silence. "All of my friends back home wore their hair like her."

I focus on a tree a few yards ahead, a smile stretching across my face. Katniss would cover her face if she knew girls were wearing their hair like her. She'd complain and say it wasn't a fashion statement and that they've lost out on the meaning of its practicality.

"She's beautiful," I say. "She doesn't even compare to any other girl."

Maya's raising an eyebrow at me, a smile tugging at her lips. "You've got it bad, Lover Boy."

"Lover Boy?" I groan and cover my face. "Not you too!"

The Careers took it upon themselves to refer to me as Lover Boy, because of my interview, on the Hovercraft to the arena. And I guess Maya picked up on it. Her smirk tells me so.

Silence falls between us, and Maya's smirk slowly fades into a thin line.

A few minutes has passed before she speaks again. Her voice is quiet.

"Have...have you killed anyone?"

My stomach lurches. Not with hunger or pain or anything. No, it lurches with guilt. With guilt and disgust and everything bit of sorry I feel for what I did. That boy from Four has a family. He could've been a brother. He was a son. A cousin. Someone's lover.

And I took that away from them. From _him_.

I nod. _Yes._

I drop my chin onto my knees and close my eyes tightly. His purple face, bloodshot eyes, limp body. All the images greet me- _taunt_ me.

"I didn't want to kill him- I didn't want to kill _anybody._ But it was either him or me...and my old wrestling instincts kicked in..." I trail off. I can't continue.

"You're not a bad person," Maya says after a long moment of silence.

I open my eyes and tilt my head to look at her. "Well, that makes one of us."

Her mouth opens to reply, probably something to counter what I just said, but she's cut off by the beeping of an incoming parachute. Maya's eyes light up, as if she hasn't seen one. And maybe she hasn't, which makes my heart ache for her.

I reach for the metal box, larger than I expected, and pry it open quickly.

And I must be dreaming. Because there's fresh loaf of sourdough bread. Even without eating it, I know it's from home. Right from my father's hands.

I hold back tears.

There's a card on top of the loaf.

_A taste of home for you to share. No matter what, I'm still with you. Always. -Katniss_

And the tears I tried to hold back begin to fall freely. One dots the card, so I quickly slide it into the leg pocket of my wetsuit before rubbing my eyes harshly. Katniss. Sweet Katniss. She's still looking out for me. Knows what I need.

And, I swear to myself, when I make it out of this arena – if I do – I'm going to hold her tightly and make sure I never let her go again.

"What's that?" Maya asks softly.

I breathe in deeply and wipe away my tears. Maya's a smart girl, though, and she knows, with her sad eyes and sympathetic smile, that I cried.

"It's...bread from back home. My family owned the bakery in Twelve, and Katniss sent this bread from there," I say quietly. And I see Maya's eyes flicker down to the loaf. "You ever had Sourdough before?"

She shakes her head.

I smile and hold to metal box out to her, which she quickly declines. "Maya, take a chunk of bread. It'll do you good. _Plus_, you can let my father know that he makes the best Sourdough bread."

Slowly, the corners of her mouth turn upward and she reaches for the loaf, tearing a chunk off.

It's when I'm tearing my own piece off that I remember. I guess I was too overwhelmed at first for me to realize it, but Sourdough is something of a secret for me and Katniss. When I tossed her the bread that one evening...when she said she would've starved to death that night...it was a loaf of burned Sourdough.

Ever since, it's been our little...connection. Our little token of _hope_.

And Katniss has said all that she needed to by sending this loaf of bread.

I grin, shaking my head slightly, before taking a bite of the fluffy, still-fresh bread.

"Your father makes really good bread," Maya says.

I raise a brow and tilt my head up. "You hear that Dad? You've got a fan from Eight!"

Maya giggles and finishes her piece. I quickly polish mine off and ask Maya if she wants another piece. We haven't had anything this filling to eat since...well, I haven't since the stew Katniss sent.

"No, we should probably save it."

I'm closing the box when lightning strikes. It strikes the tallest tree in the jungle, all the way across the water on the other side of the arena. And it strikes it again. Again. Again. I stop paying attention.

Maya clears her throat when it stops.

"I counted twelve strikes."

I turn back to her, raising an eyebrow. "Wonder why?"

Maya's brows only furrow and she bites her lip, going into thought.

I mean, twelve strikes could be random. Maybe next it'll be thirteen. Or it could be for the Districts. It's trivial, really, sitting here looking at lightning strikes compared to the bigger problems.

"What do you say we stay around this area for the day? Maybe move a bit away from the stream in case it attracts other tributes." I stand and offer the metal box with the bread to Maya. "Here, you hold onto this and I'll hold onto the weapon."

We trek through the trees until we have a good distance between us and the stream. I find us a large tree surrounded with long leafed bushes to block us from view, and we take residence there. It's a waiting game; us sitting here, hoping for other tributes to kill one another so we won't have to do it.

"Tell me about Eight." I offer Maya a smile and cross my legs, facing her. "What's it like?"

Maya runs her hand over the dirt, looking down. "None of this-" she motions around us. "No trees or grass or anything. Just buildings. We make the Peacekeeper uniforms. And sometimes the air is so bad it feels like I can't breathe."

I frown. Sure, in Twelve the mines pollute the air, but we have the forest around us. We have trees and grass and flowers. Living without nature seems almost..._unbearable _to me. And that must say a lot, seeing as there are a lot of terrible things, but that being the most unbearable.

I try to imagine what it would be like to not know what the sunset looks like through the trees. The oranges and pinks, shining through the thick green. How could someone live without that sight?

"In Twelve...we have a forest that surrounds us. It's blocked off by a fence to keep us safe, but I like looking at it. Sometimes I wonder what's beyond the fence. There's gotta be something, right?"

Katniss would know.

Suddenly, I itch to ask her about the forest. We didn't talk about it much before, because she was in the forest to keep her family fed and alive. But now...now I want to know what it's like. The fresh air and trees and things I've probably never seen or dreamed of seeing.

If I was caught talking like this in Twelve I'd be whipped on the spot.

Maya nods but doesn't say anything. I think she knows better.

Hell, I should know better, but I'm just so tired of saying and doing things to save my skin. What happened to what it was like before all of this? My father used to tell me stories. Stories of freedom of speech. He made me swear to never let it leave the house, though.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live before all of this.

A twig snapping catches my attention and my head whips up. And then my blood runs cold.

The Career pack stands before us. Four of them; the boy from One, both from Two, and the girl from Four. And the girl from Four's eyes are burning a hole through me. Like she _knows _that I killed her District partner.

Cautiously stand and put myself between Maya and the Careers.

I need to use my strong suit. My words...yes, my words. I can talk my way of this.

"Come on, guys. You really think killing us is going to get you Sponsors?" I raise my eyebrow and turn on my confident, taunting smile. "It just shows how weak you are."

The boy from One steps forward, brown eyes wild. "I bet I'm stronger than you, Twelve."

I smirk. Won't show them I'm scared. "Eager to prove yourself, huh? Well, whereas you're stronger, I'm smarter."

One steps forward, but the girl from Two grabs his arm. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Where you're advanced in muscles, I'm advanced in _brains. _And it may come as a shock to you...but to live you've gotta use your brain." One raises his sword and I cringe internally. What the Hell am I going to do? "Ah, not so fast. Are you sure you want to kill me?"

I takes a slow step back and hold my dagger behind my back. Maya takes it from my hands.

"I'm highly favoured. Would you risk angering the lovely men and women of the Capitol?"

The four faces change, brow furrowing. And I take this moment to give a thumbs up to Maya. We're both turning and running through the trees before the Careers can even grasp what we're doing.

I grab Maya's arm as she runs beside me with the box of bread and the dagger. We hook a left and break through the bushes for the beach. But I see a large overgrown bush and I figure hiding is better than running.

I tug Maya that way and we dive into the tangle of leaves. Despite the branch digging into my back, I don't move. Maya closes her eyes and bites her lip.

We don't move. Not even when the voices of the Careers fade away.

* * *

><p>"I didn't get a lot of sleep, do you think I could nap for a bit?" Maya asks quietly.<p>

I leave my thoughts behind and glance at Maya. She's leaning against the tree, her eyes closing. I grin and nod. "Does that mean you trust me now?"

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. "Wake me soon, okay?"

"Okay," I agree and scan the area in front of us.

I've got to focus now. Look out for threats. We got lucky with the Careers, but I know luck runs out quickly in the arena. I have to be ready and aware, especially now that I know how easily the Careers can sneak up.

I've got to survive these next few days.

Stay alive. I have to.

* * *

><p>Nightfall is approaching when I decide to wake Maya up. She had a good six hours of sleep, and I figured it'd be best for us to be awake tonight too. The rest of the day was <em>too <em>quiet. I'm afraid the Careers will do their hunting for us at night and I'd rather not be sleeping.

"Did I miss anything?" Maya asks, rubbing her eyes and sitting up.

I shake my head. "Just a few weird birds ran by earlier. I scared them off, though."

"Maybe we should go get some water and then head for the beach? The trees are an easy place to be ambushed, right?"

I smile. "I was thinking the same thing."

In silence, which is crucial, we walk through the trees until we hit the stream. With a chunk of bread each, we eat quickly and then wash it down with warm water that tastes a little dirty, but I can't afford to complain.

Maya keeps hold on the box of bread while I tighten my hand around the dagger and we make our way to the beach. I can make out the trail of moonlight on the water.

I'm feeling a little relieved when the sand is so close. The beach feels like a safe haven. I'm turning to smile at Maya when she suddenly stops and gasps.

And I don't think I'll ever forget the way her eyes widen with pure fear.

I follow her gaze and it's frightening, the way my chest tightens and a hot shiver runs through my body when I notice the wide, yellow glowing eyes watching us from the tree branch above.

Eyes of a cat, almost. Like Buttercup's, except larger and much more menacing.

And right now, one thought emerges clearly: _I'm going to die._

Its large, slinking body slowly rises. Black, like the silky, dark sky at night.

_I'm going to die._

I have a dagger, but even I know that won't be enough to fend this..._beast _off. Even if it was, I don't have the skill to kill an animal this size.

_I'm going to die._

I don't want to die.

Maybe it's last minute bravado, something that imminent death might bring on, that is taking over me. I know I'm going to die, but Maya doesn't need to. She can get away, hide somewhere.

"Maya," I whisper over the sound of my heart thumping in my chest. "You've got to get out of here."

"What about you?" She asks, a tremble to her voice.

"I-" The beast drops down from the branch with a graceful thud. "_Fuck_. I- I have the weapon. You...you don't. Maya, get out of here."

It's quiet. The only thing I can hear is my heart beating. And I can hear Katniss' laugh. My dad's whistling as he prepares dough. My brothers arguing. I can hear the whistle that announces the end of the miners' day.

And then it all leaves. The sound of the rustling leaves, the growl from the beast, the water lapping on the sand.

My hand grips the handle of the dagger tightly as the beast begins approaching. Slowly, I pull it out of the sheath. I can't feel the tips of my fingers, and my legs are practically jelly. It stalks closer, low to the ground, ready to attack.

The tip of the dagger is pointing at the beast, while I slowly take a step back.

It hisses and lunges forward.

And a surge runs through me. I feel like I'm back home, on a wrestling mat. My rival lunges forward, I jump to the side and avoid his hands.

I hit the ground and quickly scramble up when the beast hisses and quickly regains its position. Its mouth opens, revealing large, curved teeth ready to skin into my flesh.

"I don't want to hurt you," I say, still holding the dagger in front of me. "I don't want to die."

The beast growls and swats its large paw at me. I'm not quick enough to move out of the way, and it grazes my stomach up my side. And then there's that pain. The kind of pain you don't feel right away.

Like when I used to burn myself on the ovens in the bakery. It would take a second or two before the throbbing would start.

And then it hits me. A crippling sting and warm blood is sticking to my skin as it gushes down out of the open wound the claw caused. It's too much, the pain that has me shaking.

I fall to the ground just as I cry out.

"Hey!"

_No._

I lift my head and find Maya standing a few feet away with a large rock in her hand. I try to call out, but the words get stuck in my throat as I watch her wind her arms back and hurl the rock at the beast.

It hits the side of the large cat.

And slowly its attention leaves me and focuses on Maya.

I'm trying to pick myself up quickly, but when I hear her scream I know it's too late. Far too late to save her.

With the dagger in my hand, I force myself to stand despite the crippling pain, and I stumble over to the black animal and with a final cry, I sink the blade in its back.

It yelps loudly and thrashes. I barely have my dagger out of its back before it runs off, and a few yards away, I hear it fall to the ground with a final cry and a soft thud.

Maya's sprawled on the ground, a large gash on her neck. I scoop her up and begin to stumble away from the trees and out to the beach.

"Maya. Maya, oh God..."

She's watching me, her eyes glassing over and her breaths becoming more ragged.

I make it to the water, the air in my own lungs struggles to leave and enter. I lower Maya's body, my arms still holding her, into the water. The waves lap over her. She coughs and sputters and cries.

"You were supposed to stay away," I say, my voice cracking.

"It's a clock," she chokes out, blood spilling over her cracked lips. "The tree...midnight. Slivers...hour."

"What's a clock?" I ask, almost frantically.

She wheezes. "The a-arena."

I look around us, and I try to see it, but that's futile right now. I need to focus on Maya and nothing else.

"I'm sorry, Maya. I'm so sorry..."

"Win...Peeta. Y-you should...be the one."

I push her hair back from her face. "I want to tell you a story, okay?"

And I begin to ramble about the first time I saw Katniss Everdeen. My father telling me he was in love with her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner. I remember that day, her hair was in two braids. God, I was a goner.

"So...the teacher asked if anyone knew the Valley Song. And Katniss' hand shot straight up. Then she sang, up on the stool in front of the whole class, and I swear the birds stopped to listen."

A smile pulls at Maya's cracked lips. "Are the...t-the birds quiet...right now?"

The island is silent, and my lip curls up.

"They're silent, Maya."

She coughs. A gravelly, congested cough that drags on for a long moment. I search her face to deny my fears. I look for anything. Anything else to let me know she's not gone yet. But her eyes no longer move. The blood fills her mouth. Her breathing ceases.

Maya's gone.

Still, I sit in the water with her body in my arms and wash the blood from her skin.

"I'm sorry, Maya."

I should've listened to Katniss. I should've never made allies with Maya. Why didn't I listen to her?

It does make sense now. I understand what Katniss felt when Rue died. And a white hot anger begins to run through me. Starting in my core and running all the way to the tips of my fingers.

I thought I hated Snow before.

When the blood is gone from her pale skin, and she resembles a piece of the young girl from Eight, I slowly release her into the water and stand. As if it was on pause before, the pain in my abdomen shoots through me and has me falling into the water. My knees hit the wet sand and water splashes into my mouth and the salt stings my wound.

"Oh, God," I spit and lower my head. "Come on, Peeta."

I set my sight on a boulder that sits on the line where the sand meets the treeline. Like a baby, or a drunk – I'm sure Haymitch has done this before – I crawl to the boulder. My blood stains the sand a deep red, leading a trail all the way to where I collapse against the boulder.

My arm pressing against the gash does nothing to help and I hear myself whimper.

Katniss could ice the welts on my arms. She could kiss them. She can send me bread to feed me. But _this..._this is out of her reach. She can't help me.

I wish I could speak to her one last time, to let her know that she couldn't have saved me anyway. I want her to know that it's not her fault, no matter how much she'd like to think it is.

Somewhere far off I hear a noise, but I'm too tired to open my eyes.

"I'm going to die," I whisper.

* * *

><p><em>an: next chapter the whole story begins to change!_

_be on the look out for it in the next few weeks._


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